


Exigency: Yield (1/3)

by thebasement_archivist, ZoeTakashi



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-03
Updated: 2002-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-20 04:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 53,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeTakashi/pseuds/ZoeTakashi
Summary: Fresh out of the Academy, Agent Alex Krycek seduces A.D. Skinner.





	Exigency: Yield (1/3)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Exigency: Yield (1/3)

## Exigency: Yield (1/3)

#### by Zoe Takashi and Louise Wu

Title: Exigency: Yield  
Authors: Zoe Takashi & Louise Wu   
Email: Zoe Takashi () Louise Wu () Website: http://lzl.dreamhost.com  
Pairing: Skinner/Krycek  
Warning: Heavy angst, mild violence, a few decomposing corpses. Spoilers: Seasons 1 and 2, through Ascension. Summary: Fresh out of the Academy, Agent Alex Krycek seduces A.D. Skinner. Series: This story is best read after Becoming Alex. Beta Thanks: Loren Q, Alex, Jennie, Kristen, Lyrical Soul. Note: All sex positions have been painstakingly tested for accuracy, by our favorite visual aide, Loren Q. Note: We change the date of Walter and Sharon's separation, as mentioned in Avatar. Disclaimer: Skinner, Krycek, Mulder, Scully and other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No infringement of rights is intended. 

* * *

Exigency: Yield  
(ek-'si-gen-see)  
noun: urgent requirements, exacting want or pressing needs. 

Starring:  
Zoe Takashi as Alex Krycek.  
Louise Wu as Walter S. Skinner. 

Part 1 

Falls Church, Virginia  
Tuesday, 3 May 1994  
8:32 P.M. 

I juggle dinner trying to get my apartment key out of my pocket. 

Scooting around the sofa and loveseat, I enter the dining area, drop dinner on the table and glance at the clock. 8:35. Damn. My evening entertainment will be here in 25 minutes. I'm starving but I hate fucking on a full stomach... have to settle for a snack. Sitting at the table, I dig into the Indian food. After eating enough to take the edge off, I toss the rest onto the kitchen counter for later. 

In my bedroom, I throw my suit onto the bed and change. As I shoulder into a T-shirt, there's a knock on the door. He's ten minutes early. I'm tempted to let him wait but I am already half-hard just at the prospect of fucking. I move to the living room and yank open the door. 

"You're early." Despite the terseness of my tone, he flashes me a sultry grin and steps into the entryway. 

"Only a few minutes, babe." He reaches out and runs his hand down my chest. 

I pull him into the apartment and shut the door. "Do not call me 'babe.'" My tone is hard so he knows I'm serious, but I pull him into my arms and capture his mouth. He whimpers as my tongue aggressively finds his. I reach down and grab his ass, pulling him to me. I am fully hard now. So much for preliminaries. 

Nick. Met him last night. I stopped for take-out, and Nick sauntered in with some friends. He abandoned his cohorts and spent ten minutes flirting outrageously with me while I waited for my food. I ignored him at first but he was the prettiest boy I had seen in a long time. Blonde, blue eyes, five-ten, lean and wiry. As I was about to leave, he became more assertive, insisting he could deliver the best blowjob of my life. That seemed unlikely, but he was fun and I needed to get laid. I told him he could come by tonight, and he gave me his phone number before returning to his friends. 

Releasing him, I step back and reach for his shirt. Some skin-tight, silver, polyester thing I have to peel off him. Hmm... getting him out of those PVC pants is going to be a challenge. I reach for him, capturing one nipple, rolling it between my thumb and finger. Tightening my grip, I pull him toward me. He hisses, but then his eyes glaze over and he wiggles appreciatively. I lean down and capture the reddened nipple in my mouth and suck hard. He groans and his hand touches my head. Pulling his hand away from my hair, I increase the suction of my mouth and he whimpers. 

The phone rings. Fuck. I heave a frustrated sigh. There is no one I want to talk to but I know I have to answer. I pull away and gesture for silence while picking up the phone. 

"Yeah?" 

Nick's hands brush across my ass and I turn to face him. 

"Agent Krycek? It's Unit Manager Mathis." Christ... my fucking boss. Doesn't he bother me enough during the day? He's always so aggressive with his title, never content to just be called 'Agent Mathis.' 

"Hmm?" Silence. Oh yeah. "Uh... sir?" This whole 'sir' thing is just inane. Yes, sir. No, sir. Can I shine your shoes, sir? Nick pulls up my shirt and runs his hand underneath, stroking my chest. 

I flash him a lascivious grin and point to the floor. Smiling, he drops to his knees and begins to nuzzle his face against my crotch. Lord, that's distracting. Fuck, I missed what Mathis said. 

"What was that, sir?" 

"I said, we've been called into a meeting with Assistant Director Skinner tomorrow morning at 9:00." His tone is rife with exasperation. I don't know what he's all bent out of shape over. It's not his blowjob that's been interrupted. 

Hmm... A.D. Skinner. One of the people at the Bureau I've been briefed on. But why am I going to this meeting? "And why do you need me there?" Fuck this 'sir' bit. I am off duty. Nick's mouth works my denim-clad crotch, wetting the material. I have to bite back a moan. 

"We're discussing the Bingham kidnapping. The entire task force will attend. The Director is getting pressure from the President to solve this case. Soon." 

"Right. That it?" I can barely muster any interest in what Mathis has to say with all the activity going on in the general vicinity of my groin. 

"Yes, Agent Krycek, that will be all." He sounds weary and annoyed--his usual tone when speaking to me. I do try the man's patience. Just the thought makes me smile. I press my crotch harder against Nick's mouth. The phone clicks as the line goes dead. Back to the business at hand. 

My gaze lands on Nick. He sits back and flashes me a heated look from under his lashes. I pull my T-shirt over my head and reach for the fly of my jeans. I pop the top button and raise one eyebrow at him. Grinning at me, he reaches out and begins to release the rest of the buttons. 

Since I am not wearing underwear, Nick quickly frees my cock from the confines of my jeans, his eyes widening slightly. I thread my fingers through his hair and pull his head back. Leaning down, I run my tongue over his lips. "You going to be able to deliver on that promise?" 

He gives me a cocky grin. I release his head and he inches forward, capturing the head of my dick in his mouth. A few minutes later, I have to concede that he is really good at this. 

Gripping his hair to hold his head still, I alter the rhythm and begin fucking his face. I really want to fuck his ass but decide to go with it and let him finish sucking me off. A moment later, I thrust one last time in his mouth, then my cum shoots down his throat. He continues sucking and licking at my softening cock, and I am peripherally aware that he has begun to rub his own dick through his pants. 

Shaking off the sex haze that has settled over my brain, I reach for his arm and pull him up. "Uh-uh. Not yet, pretty boy." 

He wiggles against me and whimpers. "Please, baby, I need to come." 

I clamp one hand around both his wrists, holding them behind his back while the other moves to the bulge in his pants. "You'll come when I'm ready. And, Nick, if you want me to do something about this little problem, ever," I squeeze a little harder than I know is comfortable and he jerks, "I suggest the word 'baby' not pass your lips even one more time." 

Nick's expression is a cross between lust-addled and pained. He nods his head. I release his crotch and notice that only one of his nipples is red. Ah yes, interrupted by the phone. Leaning down, I capture the nipple I missed earlier and give it the same attention until Nick is writhing. His hands unerringly find their way back to my head and I pull away. "Hands off the head, Nick. I do not like it." It turns me into a brainless zombie, but Nick doesn't need that information. I give him a quick, hard kiss. 

My jeans are still around my ankles. Releasing Nick, I kick them away. I give Nick's pants an assessing look. "Let's see if we can peel those things off." 

Let the games begin. 

Two hours later, I extricate myself from Nick's exhausted, sweaty body. I toss the condom in the trash on the way to the kitchen. Returning, I set towels and a glass of water on the coffee table and bend down to unlock the handcuffs. The cuffs were the only way I could get him to keep his hand off his dick. 

I help him to a sitting position and hand him the water. After cleaning the semen off the carpet, I pause to consider what I'm going to do with the sleepy man sitting on my floor. He is obviously too tired to drive and I am too tired to take him home. I guess once will not kill me. 

Sighing, I take the water and pull him up, guiding him toward the bedroom. He settles into my bed and watches me as I prepare for sleep. Sliding under the covers, I stifle a yawn and feel Nick's hand on my chest. I look over at him. 

"That was so hot, baby." And he falls asleep. 

I roll my eyes, almost too tired to care. If I threatened to take a belt to his ass, I wonder if he would quit with the 'baby' bullshit. I sigh. Probably not. He would probably do it more just to get me to whip him. 

Removing his hand from my chest, I place it on the mattress and let sleep overtake me. 

* * *

Wednesday, 4 May 1994  
6:15 A.M. 

The warm, wet sucking at my cock draws me out of my sleep fog. I glance at the clock. My alarm will go off in fifteen minutes. Moaning, I arch into his mouth and he increases his suction. A few minutes later, I come and relax into the mattress. 

Nick slides up my body, leaving kisses on my chest. I still do not like people sleeping in my bed but, I have to admit, this is a nice way to wake up. A perk I had not previously considered. 

Nick begins rubbing his erection against my hip. Hmm... better make this fast. I roll him over and straddle his legs, reaching for his dick. 

My alarm goes off about fifteen seconds after he comes. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, I return to the bed and wipe the cum off his stomach and chest. 

I leave him half asleep on the bed and head for the shower. 

While rinsing my hair, I hear the shower door open followed by Nick's screech. "Yikes! Alex, turn down the hot!" I wipe the water from my face and look at him. He is huddled against the wall, avoiding the water spray. 

Reaching for the soap, I reply, "No. Wait your turn." 

He pouts but steps out of the shower. 

A few minutes later, I emerge and gesture for him to hop in. "Hurry, Nick. I have to leave soon." 

"You could go and I can lock up when I'm finished." 

He has got to be kidding. "I think not. Just hurry." 

Half an hour later, I usher him out the front door. He has a speculative expression on his face. "Do you always wear your hair like that?" 

"Huh? No. Only at work." 

"Well, it looks better the other way." 

"Thanks for the info. But I am going to work, not trying to give someone a hard-on." 

"Hmm... I don't think your hair has anything to do with that, but whatever. Hey, will I see you tonight?" 

After locking the door, I turn to look at him. "No, not tonight. I'll call you later in the week." 

He flashes me an 'I'm not falling for that line' look. 

I sigh. Half amused, half irritated. "Okay, Nick. This week is busy but how about Saturday? Around 5:00?" 

Nick grins and starts down the stairs. "See you Saturday!" 

I shake my head. I have a feeling he is going to be a royal pain. Ah well, this should be amusing for a little while. 

Putting on my sunglasses, I leave for work. 

Fortunately I am not the last agent to arrive in the Ops room. Mathis is there, talking with a tall man who makes my breath catch in my throat. Spying me, Mathis gestures me over. "A.D. Skinner, I'd like you to meet Agent Alex Krycek. One of the newer members of my team." 

This is Assistant Director Skinner? He extends one large, very masculine hand toward me. I can barely keep myself from gaping. "Agent Krycek," he acknowledges. 

I grip his hand and feel a sizzle shoot up my arm that nearly fries my brain. "Assistant Director." I nod and we pull our hands apart. 

Mathis gestures me to a chair down the table. I move away, feeling as if I've been punched. When I reach my chair, I realize my cock is hard. What the fuck? Once I'm seated and no one's paying attention, I let my mind assess what just happened. Since when do I find guys like Skinner attractive? The guy screams testosterone. Not my type. It's an aberration. I must be hard up. 

Oh bullshit. Nick was sucking my cock before I was even fully awake this morning. Skinner is just fucking sexy, and something about him speaks to my dick. Life goes on. It doesn't mean anything. 

The meeting begins. All the unit managers, including Mathis, give their excessively detailed reports. Surprisingly, Skinner listens patiently--much more so than I would have--only interrupting to clarify a point or ask questions. Once the reports are finished, he takes over the meeting, re-directing efforts and setting the investigative priorities. 

He distributes his focus around the room, making sure he has everyone's attention. His gaze pauses, almost falters, on me before continuing to the next person. I realize my look probably tells him that I'm thinking about what's in his pants rather than the words coming out of his mouth. 

My dick remains rock hard through the whole thing. By the end, I'm convinced that anyone in the room who doesn't have a hard-on for the man is a passionless drone. The high spot of my morning is hearing that these meetings are going to happen every day until this case is solved. The President wants daily updates. Lovely. 

I spend the rest of the afternoon wondering why I'm attracted to Walter Skinner. Testosterone poster-man. 

* * *

Washington, D.C.  
Thursday, 5 May 1994  
2:47 P.M. 

I'm taking a late lunch in the break room. Relieved to have the room to myself, I take the opportunity to do some reading and pull out a collection of Poe's poems. I'm so engrossed in 'Al Aaraaf,' I don't hear him enter the room. 

"Must be really good." Skinner's voice breaking the silence shoots straight to my dick. He moves toward one of the vending machines, glancing at me casually. 

Feeling a little uncomfortable to have him take note of what I'm reading, I close the book and murmur, "It's okay." 

I spent the morning meeting fantasizing about him, and managed to get in one look I know he interpreted correctly. Lust. It actually has crossed my mind to be more careful about giving him those looks. The man is probably heterosexual, and flirting with him isn't exactly part of my charter. But I can't help myself. I look at him and think of sex. If he gives me an indication that he objects, I'll stop. 

He raises his eyebrows and walks over to the table, sliding the book out from under my hand. His eyebrows shoot up even further. "Poetry?" 

"Uh, yeah." God, I want to see him naked. I look up at him, not trying to disguise where my mind has gone. 

Skinner swallows hard and eyes me suspiciously. "It's good to enjoy something that has nothing to do with your work." 

I'd be happy to enjoy you outside of work. 

Abruptly, he turns and departs. 

Hmm... he's going to have to give me a more overt indication than that. 

I should probably try making small talk with the man, but I can barely keep my wits about me when he's in the room. Besides, I've decided I want him. Just once. And I want him to know I'm thinking about sex every time I see him. Then I can put this behind me and get on with something else. 

Returning to my book, I finish reading the last paragraph of the poem. 

Thus, in discourse, the lovers whiled away The night that waned and waned and brought no day. They fell: for Heaven to them no hope imparts Who hear not for the beating of their hearts. 

* * *

Washington, D.C.  
Tuesday, 10 May 1994  
1:29 P.M. 

On my way to the second floor men's room, I nearly bump into Mathis' new kid, Krycek. The boy has been flirting with me--probably just a harmless crush, not genuine sexual attraction--but he worries me a little. 

Fresh-faced agent. He's got the innocent act down, but there's something about this boy that suggests trouble. Mathis is not one of my better unit managers. I hope Krycek finds a decent mentor, at least until Mathis washes out. 

Krycek's a handsome young man, though. Tall, slim and moves gracefully like a big cat. If I weren't married and he didn't work for me... Don't even go there, Walt. 

At the briefing today, I asked him a question a junior agent can't reasonably be expected to have a good answer for. "What's your opinion, Agent Krycek? Do you think the asbestos fibers on the windowsill are related to the crime? Or just spurious fibers?" 

Mathis rolled his eyes, his thin-lipped sneer communicating objections he'd never say to me in person. The man's barely able to listen to his senior agents. 

Krycek's eyes lit up, obviously delighted to be taken seriously, and he considered his response carefully. "Spurious, sir. It seems clear that the back door was the point of entry, and that particular window was twenty-five feet away." 

I nodded. The kid was probably right. 

After the briefing, Krycek approached me. "Sir, Agent Mathis asked that you receive the full forensic report on the asbestos fibers so you can make an informed decision about the relative value of the evidence." His tone was level and betrayed no hint that he might resent being asked to relay to a superior that his supervisor did not believe his opinion was informed. I was about to say something vague and reassuring when he looked at me from under his lashes. Another one of those looks I had written off as flirting, but I have started to wonder. 

My brain labored for a second, trying to recapture my train of thought, and I finally murmured, "Thank you, Agent Krycek." I could only describe his departing smile as sultry. 

Shaking off the thoughts about the morning meeting, I wash my hands and leave the men's room. In the hallway outside Mathis' office, I hear raised voices. Voices I easily make out as Krycek and Mathis. They've already quieted down but I decide to find out what's happening. 

Krycek is arguing that he's pursuing a pointless line of investigation and ignoring something with more promise. Mathis disagrees. 

It takes only a few moments to ascertain that Krycek is right. On both counts. The lead he's pursuing is probably--not certainly, but probably--pointless and we have overlooked another line of inquiry. I sigh and step into Mathis' office. The conversation screeches to a halt and, for the first time since I met him, Agent Krycek doesn't look at me. 

"Agents. Something new on the investigative front?" My tone is mild and the question is directed at Mathis. 

"Agent Krycek was discussing his, umm, thoughts about the investigation with me," Mathis replies dryly. 

Turning to Krycek, I query, "Agent Krycek?" 

He blandly repeats what I already heard but without any judgments or recriminations. His expression is completely blank. Mathis jumps in with his disagreement, but I forestall him. 

"Agent Krycek, I do not think your current line of investigation is without benefit, and since you're already working it, please continue. However, I do see merit in your concern about neglecting the Congressman's business relationship with VBI Enterprises as possible motive for the kidnapping." 

I turn back to Mathis. "Your team is overloaded as it is. Send Agent Krycek to meet with Baker later this afternoon. His team can take it from there." 

I pivot and leave the room. 

Back in my office, my next meeting is waiting for me. Smith. 

According to the Director, he's a Pentagon observer. I've been ordered to give him carte blanche in my office, and I don't like it a bit. He insinuates himself into the cases that interest him--mostly Mulder's--and hovers like a buzzard, smoking his foul cigarettes. 

Mr. Smith? Yeah, right. 

A few hours later, I'm walking down the hall when I hear my name. "Hear Skinner sided with Mathis against you today." 

"I wouldn't exactly put it that way." Krycek sounds quiescent about the whole thing. 

"And how would you put it?" 

"I'd say he was playing Solomon." This kid is way too astute. 

I nearly collide with them as I round the corner. Two murmured, "A.D. Skinner," are followed by my equally neutral, "Agents." Except Krycek flashes me another one of those looks before continuing on. 

I can no longer mistake the looks he has been giving me. My cock hasn't missed the message either. I only hope my pants are loose enough to conceal the evidence. 

It's been many, many years since I fucked a man. I lost my virginity to a girl, but my first love was male. 

I dated a little in high school, but no one I really cared about, so I didn't pressure the girls to put out. I even turned girls down for sex, when I felt the relationship didn't justify the increased emotional involvement. 

So I didn't lose my virginity until I was 18. Right before I left for the service. Laura Jean was a college girl, at least three years older than me. She'd tried to get me in bed a few times, but I insisted on dating first, and she wasn't interested. In an extremely tacky gesture, I showed up at her apartment the night before I had to report to Parris Island. I told her I was leaving and she took me to bed. 

Perhaps like all virgin males, I was a clumsy lover, but she was aggressive and told me exactly what to do. She had three orgasms to my one, but I was happy. I didn't have to join the Marines a virgin. 

In 'Nam, I joined a platoon with another FNG. Fucking New Guy. Lawrence Gundersen and I clung to each other like terrified children. I suppose that's what we were. He was a tall, lanky blonde. I was a tall, lanky brunette. 

In our first mission, our platoon successfully destroyed an enemy supply depot. Larry and I had planted explosives along the back of the thatched building. Afterward, we ran the entire three miles back to our base, even though we'd only been half a mile across the demilitarized zone. I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that we'd surely killed anyone who had been inside the facility. I found it repulsive to have taken lives and not even know for sure who or how many. 

Though we were both new to action, Larry was three years older than I. More mature, too. He saw how badly I was shaking and led the way outside the barracks. I had no idea where he was taking me, but I trusted him. He found a quiet spot in the bushes a couple hundred feet away from camp and sat on the ground. I sat next to him and he pulled me into his arms. Eventually, we were lying down, limbs entwined. Larry passed me a joint and we smoked it together. 

Not a word was spoken, but my trembling stopped and we both enjoyed the serenity of comforting contact. When his mouth found mine and he kissed me, I let him. After my embarrassment subsided, I kissed him back. My cock was rock hard. It seemed sick to fuck after what we'd just done that day, so I pushed his hand away when he reached for my fly. "Not tonight, Larry. Just not tonight." 

A week later, at night, we returned to our spot with only a flashlight for light. We knelt on the ground and kissed like the horny young men we were. He had a handsome blonde moustache that tickled my face. He wasn't cleanly shaved so his skin felt like sandpaper. I hardly cared. 

This time I let him open my pants. 

Larry took out my cock and stroked it reverently. It made me smile. Laura Jean hadn't given it much attention. 

We rolled over on the ground and Larry brought his face down to my crotch. He licked my cock and I just about came right then and there. When he swallowed it down, I did come... almost instantly. He swallowed my cum and lapped the head of my cock until it was clean. 

I looked down at him and stroked his soft hair. I was certain I was in love--in that naive way that seems so real to a teenager. 

He whispered to me in the darkness, "Walt, you have the biggest, most beautiful cock I've ever seen." The glow of the flashlight made his blue eyes sparkle. 

Beautiful? My cock? I'd come to think of it as an ugly appendage that evolution had stuck on my body as an afterthought. But Larry thought it was beautiful. I was amazed. And amused. 

I reached for his zipper, wondering what I could do with his cock. It was smaller than mine, but I couldn't deny the appeal. Watching it twitch under my fingers was quite arousing. 

I licked it a little, but was afraid to go further. Larry seemed content with my experimentation for a while. Then he pulled me up his body and kissed my face all over. 

"I want to fuck you, Walt." 

Well, that was even scarier. 

"I promise you, it'll feel good. You're going to love it." 

At that moment, I knew how girls felt when boys tried to talk them into something. There I was happily enjoying the body contact and post-orgasm lassitude, and suddenly I'm getting a sales pitch. 

But he was my buddy. He'd sucked my cock and swallowed my cum. We'd both come back alive from two missions now. Missions I felt I couldn't face without him at my back. 

So I lay on my side and bent one knee, exposing my ass to him. He had a tiny jar of Vaseline. True to his word, he played with my tight little asshole and I was feeling quite happy. He stuck a finger in me and that wasn't too bad. 

Two fingers was another matter entirely. He tried his damnedest to get me to relax, rubbing my ass cheeks, stroking my anus and cooing into my ear. The concept of 'relax' seemed highly incompatible with having anything stuck up my butt, but eventually I managed to relax a little. 

I bit back a scream when his cock pushed into me. He got it all the way in but didn't move for a long time. He just kept whispering to me, "Shhh. It's okay." 

When he finally began to move, I wouldn't have described it as pleasurable, but it wasn't too bad. I enjoyed the sound of his escalating moans as he thrust into me. Just when he seemed to be losing control, his hand wrapped around my cock and he started to jerk it rather fiercely. 

I was a little hard, but not very. I had this damned thing up my ass distracting me. 

He came inside me, grunting his orgasm, but that hand kept stroking my cock. As his cock softened, easing the pressure, mine began to get hard again and he jerked me to completion. 

Afterward, we zipped up and lay together, smoking pot and just being close. 

"Did you enjoy that, Walt?" 

"Yeah, kind of," I lied. 

Getting fucked was a lot better the next time. Larry never would let me fuck him. Said I was too damned big. We did everything else we could possibly think of. 

A lot of the other men probably knew what we were up to, but since we were both manly guys, we got away with it. 

We were lovers for over a year. Until the entire platoon was wiped out. But I came back. In the hospital, I cried for Larry every day for a week. It was the first time I'd cried since I was a little boy. 

In college, I slept with both men and women. Mostly men, because it was easier to get laid that way. Serious relationships seemed unimportant. 

I stopped seeking out men when I joined the Bureau. I hadn't intended to. I knew that homosexuals were reviled by most of the agents, but that only made me decide to keep quiet about it. At Quantico, I watched a young gay man get harassed out of the Bureau before he ever finished his training. It seemed I had to choose. I chose the Bureau. 

I met Sharon at the White House, of all places. A team I was part of had been invited to a White House fete as a presidential thank-you after the arrest of a prominent mafia boss. Sharon attended as the escort of a well-known local artist. She asked me to dance. Later, she kissed me over the punch bowl, and the Secretary of State had to ask us to move. It was the last time either of us ever received a social invitation to the White House. 

For better or worse, I was still maintaining my marriage vows 15 years later. And that did not include fucking a twenty-something male subordinate, no matter how pretty his eyes. 

* * *

Washington D.C.  
Friday, 13 May 1994  
11:49 A.M. 

It's been several days since I've seen Skinner outside of the morning meeting. The investigation is driving us all bonkers. Baker's team's inquiry into VBI Enterprises has given us one of two leads. I have no problem understanding why Skinner handled things this way, but I still want to cosh Mathis upside the head. Of course, I'd probably want to do that no matter what. The man has all the subtlety of a used car salesman under quota on the last day of the month. 

I keep thinking if I don't see Skinner, this insanely rampaging lust will abate. No luck thus far. I fucked Nick senseless last night, trying to banish the sexy A.D. from my consciousness for a little while. All that happened was Nick was too worn out to drive home, so I had to let him stay. Again. So, today I'm tired because I don't sleep well with someone in my bed. But there was the lovely wake-up perk of having my morning Skinner-hard-on taken care of enthusiastically by Nick's willing and talented mouth. 

I'm thinking about my morning blow job when the elevator doors open and I begin to step out, nearly colliding with Skinner. 

"Agent Krycek." 

"Assistant Director." This time I know sex was in my voice. He looks startled, very briefly, then his neutral expression is back and he punches the elevator button. The doors close and I turn away in a much better mood. Even though there have been few encounters over several days, I'm starting to feel as if I'm sexually harassing him. 

I have to get the man in bed. And have no idea how to go about it. 

* * *

Washington D.C.  
Wednesday, 18 May 1994  
6:15 A.M. 

I face Mathis, barely able to keep my eyes open. Agent Nathan Gjersee and I were called in for surveillance on the Bingham case Tuesday morning at 2:00 A.M. It is now Wednesday morning. I've had a whole two hours of sleep in the last 48. Gjersee is dead on his feet. So am I, but I refuse to let Mathis see how tired I really am. 

Mathis finishes reviewing the surveillance reports and looks up at Gjersee. Way up. Gjersee's nearly 6'5" and he's the senior agent, so I will be ignored. Being ignored by Mathis is such a blessing. "All right, Agents. You're dismissed. Suggest you go home and get some rest." Mathis has been here for a whole fifteen minutes, and looks nice and fresh. I am now going to miss my Skinner fix two days in a row. Suddenly, I'm tired and cranky. 

Gjersee trips over nothing on his way out the door and I grab his wrinkled T-shirt to keep him upright. That's the one perk of surveillance. Street clothes. Of course, after 28 hours they are smelly and gross. Gjersee's ratty jeans and old T-shirt add to his former-California-surfer-bum looks, and his spiky blond hair is sticking out in every possible direction. 

I walk behind Gjersee as we head for the parking garage. The man's a wreck. I've gone a lot longer than two days without sleep but apparently he hasn't. "Nate, you'd better let me drive you home." 

"Nah. I'll be fine." Yeah, right. 

He trips again as he's opening the door to the parking garage. I grab his arm and stumble through the doorway, trying to keep him upright. He's a little too big for me to manage easily. 

"I don't think you can drive, Nate." My voice bounces off the walls of the deserted parking garage. 

"Told you, I'll be fine." If he weren't so tired, I think he would be aiming for surly. To prove how fine he is, he picks that moment to trip again. This time, he takes me with him. I land on my left hip and elbow. Pain shoots up my arm. "Fuck!" 

Gjersee struggles up and offers me a hand. "Hell, no. You'll probably fall on me." I struggle to my feet, nursing my arm and glaring at him. "You cannot drive. I'll drop you home, and your girlfriend can drive you back later to pick up your truck." 

"Agents, what's going on?" Skinner, using his best A.D. voice, startles the hell out of both of us. 

"Sir. We're just on our way out." Gjersee actually manages to sound coherent and professional. Then ruins the effect by blinking rapidly, trying to keep his eyes open. I just stand there, drinking in the sight of Walter Skinner. I'm too tired to do anything other than appreciate the way he looks in his crisp, white shirt. 

"I see that. Where are you coming from?" 

"Surveillance for the Bingham case, sir." I'm glad Gjersee is answering the questions. When I get tired, my sense of decorum vanishes. I'd have probably answered with something like 'inside,' and really pissed him off. Just the thought almost makes me smile. 

"When were you called on surveillance?" 

"Two A.M., sir." 

Skinner looks confused. I don't blame him. What kind of wimpy agents can't handle four hours of surveillance? 

I decide to clear up the mystery. "Two A.M., yesterday." 

He looks enlightened and then briefly annoyed before his expression is back to neutral. "Very well. Shall we go back inside?" He gestures toward the door. 

Gjersee follows but I stay put. "Why? My car is right over there." I point in the general direction. 

"Yes, Agent, I believe getting you both away from your vehicles is the point." 

"Sir, I am capable of driving myself home." 

"Agent Krycek, I'm not questioning your ability. I'm telling you that you are not driving home. Not negotiable. Now, let's go inside and we'll arrange to have you both taken home." 

He's using the A.D. voice that strikes terror in the hearts of agents all over the building. I am somewhat impervious to the effect, but he is the boss, so I sigh and walk back inside. 

My elbow is throbbing, so I leave Skinner to deal with Gjersee's constant stumbling. He walks us back to Mathis' office. Oh fuck. Is the man a sadist? He directs us to wait outside, then turns to me. "Do you need medical attention for that?" He gestures to my arm. 

I feel my hackles rise. "No." Don't try to take care of me, Skinner. 

He nods and enters Mathis' office, closing the door. There are no chairs in the hall. Nathan slides to the floor and leans his head against the wall. I pace. 

* * *

I was given Mathis in a reorganization. I never would have promoted that fool. Unfortunately, the Office of Personnel Management won't let me demote him without due process, which is their euphemism for waiting until the end of time. 

So I have to reprimand him. Again. "Mathis, did you just send Gjersee and Krycek home?" 

His voice is instantly defensive. "Yeah, they've been on for 24 hours. I thought they needed some sleep." 

"Yes, they do, but the expressway is not a good place for a nap." I glare, waiting for him to catch on. "The agents can hardly walk. What were you thinking just dismissing them like that?" 

"Listen, Skinner. This case has the whole team putting in long hours. I can't afford to pull another agent off the case to play chauffeur to a couple of sleepy agents." 

"But you have time for funerals? Or lawsuits, when these guys drive someone off the road?" I shake my head. "You look well rested, Mathis. You can drive them home." 

"Me?" 

"That's an order, Mathis." 

I don't wait for his next gripe. I step into the hall. Gjersee looks asleep, leaning against the wall. Krycek gives me a tense glance. My voice carries. He probably heard the whole thing. 

"Agents?" 

"Sir?" replies Krycek, giving Gjersee a nudge with his elbow. The older man blinks into semi-consciousness. 

"I don't ever want you driving in this condition. Is that understood?" 

Gjersee mumbles, "Yes, sir." 

Krycek's face is still tense, but he gives an abrupt nod. 

Mathis appears with his coat on and car keys in hand. He gives me a pissy glare as he leads the way to the elevator. 

* * *

Falls Church, Virginia  
Saturday, 21 May 1994  
7:15 A.M. 

I wake up erect and thinking of Skinner. As usual. I fucked Nick last night, imagining that he was Skinner. Told him to go home immediately afterward, not wanting him to hang around reminding me that I'm not fucking the man I want. 

A few pulls on my cock and I'm already close. Just thinking about Skinner does that to me. I wish I could figure out why I'm so fucking attracted to the man. I visualize his huge hard body bent over my dining room table, and I come, shooting on my stomach and chest. 

Fuck. How much longer can I do this? I'm not used to endless days of sexual frustration. I'd seduce him if I had a clue how to go about it. Can't see any of my usual tricks working, and he's completely unresponsive to the smoldering looks I give every time I see him. Maybe I can get Spender to arrange for a transfer so I don't have to keep dealing with this. 

I need to get some exercise and try to sweat Skinner out of my system. After a quick shower and breakfast, I change into bike shorts and a tight white tank top. Securing my keys, wallet and a bottle of water to my bike, I head out for a long, hopefully mindless, ride. 

Before I can really get going, I stop at the 7-11 to call my voicemail. A short message from Vlad letting me know everything is fine. Just like clockwork, since I came to the States, he calls once a month to let me know everything is okay. Over the years, there have been other messages if he or Aleksei needed something. 

Immediately putting Aleksei out of my head, I resume my ride. 

Two hours later, I'm at home, dripping with sweat. I'm about to walk my bike up the stairs when a van pulls into the lot and Mathis jumps out. He's wearing grubby jeans and an old T-shirt that says 'Dan Fogelberg: Twin Sons of Different Mothers--The Tour.' Where does he get this shit? 

"Agent Krycek, we've been trying to reach you." 

"I was out." Obviously. "Problem?" 

"We have a lead on the Bingham case. Setting up an undercover sting now. Let's go." 

Well, here's a weekend gone to shit. "Let me stow my bike and change. Be right back." 

"No. We need you undercover. A cyclist is just as good as anything else and saves time." 

I want to argue with him, but just grit my teeth and mutter, "I'll go retrieve my weapon and badge." I'm up the stairs before he can object. I can't think of a reason why he'd argue, but I've determined that Mathis is a complete boob. 

Upstairs, I retrieve my gun, badge and a lightweight jacket to stash it all in. In the parking lot, I discover they've put my bike in the van. I'm left to sit uncomfortably in the back, trying to keep it from falling on the equipment. I really hate this. 

The bust goes down without a hitch. Our inside man got tape of them talking about nabbing the congressman's son, and his whereabouts. I got the distinction of tackling one of the men on the run. Didn't have cuffs, so had to sit on him 'til someone else caught up with us. 

After we retrieve the Bingham kid and arrest two more perps, Mathis insists we all return to the Hoover for reports and debriefing. Fucking stupid. I have no reports to write. I was only there as backup, riding around looking pretty. I guess I could write a report about how I was yanked out of my home unprepared, didn't have my handcuffs and had to restrain the perp with my ass. Bet Mathis would love that. 

Someone orders in lunch but I'm fairly certain it wasn't Mathis. Pizza this time. I'm grateful. Usually it's sandwiches. Too much bread in the American diet. 

After a long, boring meeting, I try to finagle a ride for me and my bike from Agent Gjersee, who has a giant SUV--probably to carry his surfboard. As we're about to leave, Mathis calls me. I roll my eyes, making Nate chuckle, and turn to face Mathis. 

"Sir?" 

"Agent Krycek, one last little thing. I need you to drop off copies of all the preliminary reports." 

Gjersee slaps me on the shoulder. "Guess you won't need that ride, Krycek. See you Monday." 

I mutter something vague and pleasant before turning back to Mathis. 

"I'm sure you're aware that I don't have a vehicle, and I need to figure out how to get my bike home and, well, I have plans." Let me out of this, please! 

He motions for me to follow him, which I do. In his office, he tosses me a set of keys and hands me a stuffed envelope. "Bureau car. It's in space 275. Bring it back Monday in one piece. Leave your bike here and pick it up later." I want to tell him to fuck off, but our relationship is already strained and I doubt my smoking friend is going to look favorably on me getting in trouble with my superiors. "And your job is more important than any plans you may have." 

"Yes, sir. Where am I going?" Straight to hell, Krycek. 

He passes me a printout with an address and, very considerately, driving directions. "Drop those reports at A.D. Skinner's house." 

Oh, well, that changes everything! I struggle to control my facial expression. "I'll drop by my house and change, then take them over." 

"No. Your place is the opposite direction. I just got off the phone with him and he's expecting those ASAP." 

Shit. Way to make an impression. Show up half dressed, hair a mess and covered in a layer of old sweat. Great. "I'll leave right now." 

* * *

Things are truly awful with Sharon. 

Two weeks ago, when I started sleeping on the couch in the den, I thought it was for just one night. But we haven't fucked in months, and I couldn't bear the thought of lying in the same bed trying not to accidentally touch her. 

Last night, I set up semi-permanent quarters in the guest room. 

I'm so pissed off at her, but the situation is entirely my fault. I've never been emotionally giving, like Sharon. She made it clear from the first year of our marriage that she needed me to share my feelings. To me, it seems like I do communicate them to her, but I suppose it's nothing like the genuine emotional intimacy that other couples attain. 

I'm a washout in the marriage business. It would have been depressing after a year or two, but after 15 it feels like a lifelong failure. 

The last time we got our wedding rings cleaned, I didn't put mine on again. It's like wearing a reproach on my hand. I'm sure Sharon noticed, but she didn't say anything. 

I will never understand why the woman hasn't left me. Managing the gallery pays well enough to support herself in style. 

I think I almost hate her for not leaving me. Surely it's not my duty to leave her? I don't have any problem with our marriage. Well, not until I tried to seduce her one night and she said in a dead tone, "I just don't feel that close anymore." I rolled away and gave up. Probably for good. 

Still, she didn't ask for a divorce. She's a beautiful and intelligent woman. She could replace me with twenty suitors in a week. 

I remember when we met. Sharon charmed me right into her arms. We had so much fun doing simple things. A trip to the grocery store was full of laughter and joy. She was my best friend. She still is, but I've damaged us beyond repair. I took something beautiful and turned it into awkwardness and despair. 

This morning I was drinking coffee in the kitchen when she came downstairs. One aggravated glance from her--so common these days she's going to have lines on her face from that expression--and I took my coffee into the living room. After I read the paper, I retreated to the garage. 

My woodshop is where I hide when I can't face her. She rarely bothers me in the shop. I've hidden here so often on weekends lately, all my projects are finished. The last thing I built was a lingerie chest for her. I presented it in the bedroom one night. She forced a smile and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you, Walter." It just served to remind me of all the genuine affection that no longer works between us. All that's left is a peck on the cheek as an obligatory thank you. 

I shouldn't be in the shop barefooted, but I sweep the floor every time I'm here. I don't have a project or even any wood to start one, but I flip through an idea book. Maybe I'll build a table for the entryway. I jot down a list of the required supplies, but I don't feel motivated enough to go to the hardware store. 

Instead, I start organizing my hand tools drawer. It was perfectly arranged before, but if I move a few things around, I might find some clever way to make one more of the often-used items easier to reach. 

* * *

It takes twenty-five minutes and two wrong turns to navigate to Skinner's house. My stomach is in knots, and I've been fighting a perpetual erection since I was told to go to his house. Bike shorts don't exactly conceal anything, so every time I feel myself get hard, I visualize Mathis. That works surprisingly well. 

Pulling up in front of the house, I think about wearing my jacket, but it doesn't cover my crotch, so I can't think of any point. I tuck my thin wallet and badge in the back waistband of my bike shorts, grab the reports and move to the house. I knock on the door, and a tall woman with dark hair answers. "Yes?" 

I'm taken aback. "Uh, I'm looking for Walter Skinner. Do I have the right house?" 

"Yes. And you are?" 

"Sorry. Agent Krycek." Her eyebrows arch up. "Sorry about my appearance, umm, we were..." 

"Undercover?" She grins. 

"Uh, yeah. I think he's expecting me?" 

"Can I see your ID?" 

I reach to the small of my back and produce my badge. Pushing the screen door open, she motions for me to enter. Inside the foyer, she extends her hand to me. 

"I'm Sharon Skinner. Walter's wife." God, why didn't it ever occur to me that he was married? And, therefore, apparently heterosexual. I groan internally while I shake her hand. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am." I keep a neutral smile on my face. 

"This way. He's out in the garage." She guides me through the house to the garage door. Opening it, she calls out to him, "Walter, there's an Agent Krycek here to see you." 

I hear his voice but can't see him. "Thanks, Sharon." His tone is a little flat. 

She gestures for me to enter the garage, murmuring, "I'll leave you two to talk business." 

Watching my step as I take the three stairs into the garage, my breath catches in my throat when I look up. He's only wearing jeans. Oh fucking hell. Not even shoes. Just jeans. His body is better than I imagined. Chest covered in hair. So hyper-masculine that my cock starts to harden immediately. When did I start to find that appealing? I'm frozen on the spot and hear the door shut behind me. 

I shut my eyes briefly and try to visualize Mathis. It's not working this time. I open my eyes and find him staring at me. I don't know for how long because I was too dazed to pay attention. 

* * *

Mathis sent Alex Krycek. Wearing damned close to nothing. Look at that body... long, lean, beautiful. My cock is hard in a millisecond. It's damned good to know it still works. 

The boy's sporting an erection himself. Sex is written all over his face. It's obvious that I could have him if I wanted. My throbbing cock reminds me that I do, but I won't. He'll leave here as hungry as he arrived. 

His eyes are way too pretty. Teal green and translucent, with mink-thick eyelashes. I never notice features like that--didn't know what color Sharon's eyes were until we were engaged--but it's impossible not to be drawn in to Krycek's stunning eyes. 

"So you brought me the report on the Bingham arrests?" When my words finally come out, they seem very wrong... entirely the wrong topic. 

He's silent for a second, and I'm about to repeat myself, when he clears his throat and replies, "Uh, yes, sir." His voice is low and husky. "All the suspects have been rounded up and the Bingham kid was treated at the hospital and returned to his parents." 

He steps forward, slowly, as if his feet are glued to the floor, extending the envelope when he's within reaching distance. I notice his breathing is rapid, drawing attention to the rise and fall of his chest. His nipples are visible through the tank. 

I blink, trying to get my brain to function. I reach for the envelope, pulling the report out and flipping through it. Aware that Krycek hasn't moved, I set the file on the table next to me and look up at him. His eyes are glittering and the tip of his tongue is barely visible between his lips. Sorry, boy. You won't get what you came for today. "Thank you, Agent Krycek. That will be all." 

He doesn't respond, staring at me as if transfixed. He takes a sudden step forward and his hand is resting on my ribs, just below my nipple, his gaze locked on my chest. 

"You're way out of line, Agent Krycek." My words are strong, but my body doesn't move an inch. I can smell the musky scent of him. I'm impossibly aroused, and it feels so good to experience the simple pleasure of a very inspired hard-on on a Saturday morning. 

His eyes slowly meet mine. Eyes glazed with desire, breathing rapid, lower lip caught in the grip of his teeth. His hand slides up my chest, fingers brushing across my nipple. 

When was the last time someone looked at me like that? Fuck. What he's letting me see is so damned beautiful... his longing... Oh, Christ. I should have pushed him away a long time ago if I didn't want to do this. 

As my hands reach for his waist, I throw away 15 years of fidelity. I pull him to my chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart. Mine, too. My hands stroke and wander over the muscles in his back, before drifting lower to explore his ass through the flimsy shorts. He writhes against me, seeming to caress my entire body with his. The only sound in the garage is my groan, a pitiful herald for the violation of my wedding vows. 

Dammit, boy! Damn you for bringing me to this. 

Now certain that this is his fault, I lose all thoughts of kissing those pouty lips. Instead, I turn him so he's facing my butcher block table. My hands slide down his hips, stroking his flanks. I reach around and locate his erection through the shorts. My other hand probes his well defined crack. Once I imagine my cock pressing into his ass, I have to have it. 

Pressing him forward and starting to angle his torso down, I probe more insistently at his ass. He tenses and I hear a startled gasp. "What... I don't..." 

I grab him around the waist, pulling his back to my chest, and hiss in his ear, "Are you teasing me, boy?" 

His shaky voice travels on his escaping breath, "Oh, fuck no." His body suddenly relaxes against mine, acquiescing to whatever I have planned. 

Now that that's settled, my mind shifts to more prosaic concerns. Lube...? I glance around the room looking for possibilities. Motor oil. WD-40. Ah, the hand lotion Sharon gave me. Smells like fruit or something. 

I give Agent Krycek a light smack on the ass to let him know I'm coming back and step to the sink, returning with a pump bottle of lotion. He's turned his body so his hip is propped on the butcher block. I'm briefly caught in his stare. I realize now that what I thought were overt stares at the office were, in fact, pretty tame. He's breathing hard, and I've never seen such naked lust on someone's face. He reaches behind him and removes a flat wallet from his waistband. He removes a condom, then sets the wallet on the table followed by his badge. 

Closing the short distance between us, I push him back around to face the table. I hear his breath hitch when I reach for him. I push him down so he's bracing his weight on his arms. 

I want to touch him. My hands roam possessively across his back, then around to his front. Everywhere I touch, he presses into the caress. His body is so firm. It's been so long since I've touched a man. I slide one hand inside his tank top, stroking and squeezing his abdomen and his pecs. Nice, smooth chest. 

I place a hand on each of his hips, then peel down his shorts revealing a pretty white ass. I can't resist petting him for a moment, but then nudge his legs open with my knee. His breathing becomes more erratic, and I press him down further so he's taking his weight on his elbows. I glide my fingers across his crack. A squirt of the lotion, warmed in my hands, and I massage his tiny anus. 

Krycek gasps and a shudder passes through his body. 

As I ease one finger inside him, he tightens and pulls away from me. I keep it inside, rubbing gently and, after a moment, he pushes back in my direction, moaning and arching his back. He's not completely sure he wants to get fucked, but that ass is so very tight around my digit. I'm sure. 

I slowly insert a second finger. I massage and stretch him thoroughly before I make a point of gliding across his prostate. His head jerks up. "Oh fuck." He sounds surprised, but then pushes his hips back against my hand, groaning and dropping his torso across the table. 

Rubbing his prostate for a few moments, I watch him writhe, listening to his gasps and moans. He tries to steady his breath and drops his head to the table as he reaches behind him, holding the condom out to me. 

Good boy. I ease my fingers out of him and tear open the packet hurriedly. I want to be inside him yesterday. Unbuttoning my jeans, I take out my erection. I roll the condom on and slather the lotion on it. Krycek's legs are trembling. 

Those long, muscular legs of his are exquisitely sexy. Bent over for me, his hamstrings are stretched beautifully. 

I position my cock head at his entrance, rubbing his anus with the tip. He gasps and the muscles in his ass clench. I ask him, my voice unsteady, "This what you want, Krycek?" I don't know what I plan to do if he says no. That answer is simply unacceptable. 

He makes a sound like a choked sob, then responds in a gravelly voice, "Fuck me." 

Bracing a hand on his hip, I push forward and the head of my cock breaches the ring of his anus. It feels so fucking good that I have to stop and breathe. His shoulders tense and he groans. The muscles in his lower back and ass are quivering. 

When I press on, I move slowly, but I don't stop until my cock is completely sheathed inside his ass. "Fuck, yeah," I whisper mindlessly. I place a reassuring hand on his upper back. "You okay?" His breath is coming in short gasps. He nods his head. 

As I withdraw a bit and begin to fuck him, I am lost in the raw act. It's uncomplicated animal behavior. I thrust and he groans. My cock is squeezed magnificently by his very tight ass. With minor effort, I stimulate his prostate, and the sexy sounds he makes become honeyed sounds of pleasure. 

I reach around his body and grasp his cock. He jerks in my hand and groans deep in his chest. It feels good to stroke it... so much like my own and yet so foreign. There's a bit of moisture at the tip. I wipe it over the head of his cock. He throws his head back and stops breathing for a few seconds. The skin is smooth and soft, but the organ is throbbing hard. 

He smells of sex. We smell of sex. Musky. Masculine. Sweat. Smells that have nothing to do with women's bodies. 

I begin to fuck him harder. My hand jerks his cock aggressively, the way I jack off when I'm in a hurry. He reaches for the edge of the table and the muscles in his back flex as he stretches himself out and holds on tightly. By his choppy breathing and the feel of his cock in my hand I know he's about to come. 

The blood is surging in my veins and his. I'm alive. 

I increase the pressure on his cock slightly, keeping my rhythm fast. He presses his ass against me, his cry muffled by his arm, as his ass clenches hard around my dick. Then I feel his cock erupt in my hand. 

Thrusting hard and fast, my orgasm begins a few seconds after his. Pleasure is real again and no longer a memory. As my cock pulses inside him, I feel part of myself break away. Something besides my semen has been shed. And yet, I feel impossibly good. Pleased by the simple human act. 

I collapse on his back for a moment. His breathing is shallow and rapid. His hands shake as he slowly releases his death grip on the table. His muscles tremble and, without realizing it at first, one of my hands is gently stroking the side of his lean body. It's the only thank you the boy is going to get from me today. 

After a minute, I pull out of him, his tight ass gripping my cock as it is withdrawn. He gasps, his hands clenching on the table briefly. I dispose of the condom. 

Sharon's voice intrudes on the intercom. "Walter, the Director is on the line." 

I hold my pants up with one hand and reach for the button. "I want to finish here. Would you tell him I'll call him in five minutes?" 

She does not respond. This is alienated Sharon-speak for agreement. 

Once my cock is tucked away and my jeans are zipped, I reluctantly turn my eyes back toward him, dreading the next few minutes. 

Still turned toward the table, Krycek slides his shorts up over his ass. Grabbing his wallet and badge, he tucks them into the waistband. He turns around, looking at the floor. Walking past me, he leans over and picks up car keys I wasn't aware he dropped. 

Turning to face me, his eyes find mine, gaze direct but virtually expressionless. I feel an ache of guilt. I've just used him and I have nothing to say to him. He looks away and moves to the door, his fingertips grazing the back of my hand as he passes. A few seconds later, I hear the thump of the garage door closing. 

This could easily cost me my job, but I'm not sure I even care. For one morning this year, I felt alive. It may have been worth it. If I feel alive, I must still be alive. This tiny spark of hope feels like a low hum inside me. 

* * *

I flop back on my bed feeling completely wiped out and barely able to keep hold of a coherent thought. My ass hurts. And itches. And I'm getting hard again just thinking about how I got into this state. I resist the urge to scratch. What the fuck was in that lotion? 

Rolling over on my stomach, I catch a whiff of... the faint smell of peaches. Oh, god. How mortifying. 

I've been consensually fucked for the first time, by a man with a giant dick, using peach lotion for lube. And my brainless cock is getting harder knowing my butt smells like peaches. Knowing he made my butt smell like peaches. 

I groan and bury my face in the pillows. Almost without conscious knowledge, my hips begin humping the bed. 

Feeling twinges in my over-tenderized ass, I hump the bed even harder, seeking the sensation. I know I can't come this way, and my bike shorts are too fucking tight, but it feels good. The more I move my hips, the more acutely I'm aware of the tenderness in my ass. 

I spread my legs. With my legs apart, the tenderness mutates into little flashes of pain. Mixed with the pleasure coursing through my cock and balls, it sends electric shocks to every nerve in my body. Spreading my legs further, causing more pain, I pull my knees up slightly and continue to thrust into my bed. The pleasure and pain mingling make me gasp and clutch the sheets. 

Visualizing Skinner positioning the broad head of his cock at my tender anus, I come. In my too tight bike shorts. 

The phone rings. I groan and reach for it. "Yeah." 

"Hey, baby." 

"Nick, don't call me baby. It annoys the fuck out of me." 

"Okay." I can almost hear him pouting. "You want me to come over?" 

"No. Had to work. I am tired and not feeling social." 

"You don't have to socialize, and I'm sure you'll feel better with my lips around your cock." 

I doubt it. I would only feel better if your first name was Walter and... Fuck. I have got to think about something else. 

"Not tonight, Nick. I'm going to shower and go to bed early." 

"Okay, lover. I'll talk to you tomorrow." 

"Right." 

In the shower, I soap my body, unable to stop myself from remembering Skinner's hands sliding over my skin. My cock starts to respond. Stop it, Alex! 

Bracing my hands against the wall, I try to figure out what possessed me to bend over for Walter Skinner. It doesn't take much brain power to figure it out. Lust. And too damned much sexual tension over the last two weeks. 

When he started touching me, I felt completely engulfed by lust. I have never been so caught up in sex before. So mindless in my desire. I've always been partially detached, thinking about what's next, what to do. For the first time, my brain shut off--before I even touched him. 

It took me too long to process the signs that he planned to fuck me. And when I did, the concern that he would stop--pull away from me--was more powerful than my fear of being fucked. 

It cannot happen again. He obviously has that top dog thing going. Top dog and I are not compatible. No, this will not happen again. I do not want anyone fucking me in the ass. I can use today--blackmail--if I ever need to get something from him. Right? 

I groan, knowing I am suffering from a delusion. My soapy hands find the crack of my ass and brush across the sensitive opening. My cock comes to full attention, and I bite my lip before banging my head against the wall a few times in sheer frustration. 

Dropping to my knees, I stroke my cock, wondering what his dick would feel like in my mouth, until my cum is rinsing down the drain. 

* * *

Washington D.C.  
Monday, 23 May 1994  
8:50 A.M. 

With the kidnapping solved, things have calmed down substantially. Not that Mathis' team doesn't have months of work ahead of them to deal with the evidence and prepare the prosecution, but I won't have so many uptight VIPs on my case. 

The X-Files are now my biggest headache. The Director told me to close them down. I think my Pentagon observer, Smith, is driving him. I can't divine any good reason why the Director is taking orders from the chain-smoking bastard. Mulder has been a management headache, but he's one of the smartest men in the Bureau and I admire his tenacity. And no one else wants these cases. 

The liver-eating mutant thing wasn't exactly my idea of a choice case either. Surely that didn't really happen the way Mulder said it did? Or did it? 

Mulder's informant is dead. There has to be a reason. It's probably not what Mulder thinks it is but it's something. Something important. 

I'm going to stall the Director as long as I can. Maybe I can trade keeping the X-Files in exchange- 

A tap on the door intrudes on my machinations. 

I admit Section Chief Robert Baker into my office a few minutes before the Bingham case post-mortem. 

Baker has been a section chief for five years, now heading up the violent crime section. He takes a lot of shit because he's about Scully's height, but, like her, he's a good agent to have backing you up. Fast, smart and lethal. 

"Sir, I'd like to request the use of Agent Krycek for the Rose Killer. He was dead on about VBI Enterprises and I'd like to work with him again." 

I'm about to ask why he's not having this conversation with Mathis, who is Krycek's unit manager, when he continues, "Mathis won't let me have him. Says the kid has an attitude problem and he wants to manage him closely." 

Mathis is the one with the attitude problem. Krycek may be direct and opinionated, but he is no worse than most of the other good agents in the Bureau. And managing him closely is exactly the wrong strategy. 

"Sir, Mathis is just pissed about VBI. We made him look bad by solving his case." He rolls his eyes. "Christ, I'd be fucking grateful if he'd solve one of mine." 

"Krycek's a bit green for you guys to be fighting over him." 

"He's damned smart." Baker scratches an itch in his moustache. "You know... I saw him at the Bingham bust. He tackled and subdued a suspect who had at least 60 lbs on him. And restrained him without cuffs. The kid's got a lot of potential and... frankly, sir, Mathis isn't capable of developing him." 

I nod. "You can have Krycek. I'll talk to Mathis." Lucky me. 

I follow him out the door, on my way to the Bingham kidnapping meeting. 

* * *

I'm barely able to focus on the post-mortem. It's a relief when someone besides Skinner begins to speak, as I'm forced to focus my attention elsewhere. I have decided to not pursue the man but he still makes me hard. Every time I see him. 

As the meeting ends, Section Chief Baker gestures me out into the hall. I follow the petite man, noticing that Skinner and Mathis are leaving the Ops room together. 

I focus my attention on Baker. "Sir?" 

"You are temporarily assigned to my section. You'll be working the Rose Killer case." 

I'm a little surprised, but anything that keeps me away from Mathis is a good thing. "Yes, sir. Effective when?" 

"Today. Wrap up whatever you're working on and report to the Unit Manager, Agent Kym. He'll brief you on the current state of the investigation. Get up to speed as quickly as possible. We could have another killing soon, and I don't want to have to brief you in the field." I nod. He slaps me on the shoulder and moves off. 

A few hours later, Gjersee catches up with me. "Hey, I hear you're working on the Rose Killer case." 

"Mmm." 

"Well, I don't envy you, man. Even if you are getting out of a lot of paperwork. Those serial killer cases are a real mind fuck. You seen the way Baker's agents look the first few days after a new victim?" Yeah, I have. They look strung out. I nod and he continues, "Hey, you wanna go grab some lunch?" 

Being social and making friends is not part of my game plan but I need some distraction. Need to get Skinner off the brain. No point in dwelling on something that will not happen again. "Sure." 

"Burger place across the street?" 

Ugh... more bread. "How about Chinese? There's a place a couple of blocks away." 

"Sure. Let me grab my jacket." 

At lunch, Gjersee confirms my suspicions that he's from California and likes to surf. I don't bother asking how he manages that year-round tan. But we spend most of lunch talking about the Bingham case. 

"You know, Krycek, I think the most intense thing was the morning Ops meetings." 

That's a little strange. "Why?" 

"One name. Skinner. The man makes me nervous. Having to sit in a meeting with him every morning ruined my breakfast." 

I guess everything comes down to perspective. They made me want to corner Skinner in a dark closet and have lunch. Not supposed to be thinking about Skinner... change the subject. 

Gjersee adds, "You know, I had to change gyms because he makes me so nervous?" 

That catches my attention. "What do you mean?" 

"Used to work out at Mike's on 4th Street. Ran into Skinner a couple of times and decided my nerves couldn't handle it." He laughs at himself. "Switched to 24-Hour Fitness." 

Back at the office, I call to find out the hours for Mike's gym, then feel annoyed with myself for letting Skinner get to me. I suppress any more thoughts of one Walter Skinner, and head off to meet with Agent Kym. 

There are three agents in the war room when I arrive. A case has to be very high profile to warrant taking over an entire ops room. I glance around, noting all the crime scene photos taped to the walls, and the white boards filled with information. There are files and papers piled on the large conference table. Fold-up tables have been set up along the walls, holding three computers and offering some 'desk' space. 

There are three agents in the room. Two are pouring over a file together, and the third I already know. Special Agent Jennifer Gough rises to greet me. 

"Hello, Agent Krycek." Gough is a tall, thin woman in her 40's with auburn hair. She actually works for Mathis. Must be another agent on loan. 

"Agent Gough," I acknowledge. "I was supposed to meet with Agent Kym?" 

"He's in a meeting with A.D. Skinner and Baker. You can get settled in and start reviewing the victim profiles." She gestures to a stack of folders at the end of a folding table. "You can work there." 

"Do I need to clear out my desk?" 

"No. There's a shortage of desks in this unit and since you're only temporarily assigned here, you'll keep your spot down on two." 

Seems strange to work a floor away from the rest of the team. I hate having to ask a lot of questions. "So, I'll be working from there?" 

"Most of the time, you'll work in here or out in the field." 

Lovely. Another perk to being the lowest rung on the ladder. I simply nod my head and start toward the table with my reading materials. 

She waves a hand toward the other two men. "David Lawrence and Eugene Mallory. Agents, this is Alex Krycek." They both look up and nod, immediately returning to their paperwork. "Agent Kym is the unit manager and investigative lead." 

I thought Baker was the lead. She instantly understands my confusion. "Serial killers are always high profile and this one is getting a little out of hand. Which is why they're pulling agents from other units to help out. Section Chief Baker is more directly involved than usual. It doesn't help that the perpetrator is targeting the D.C. area. Puts it right in our faces." She looks around briefly before continuing, "Let me show you where everything is and then you can get started." 

Agent Gough shows me the layout of the room, carefully watching me when we get to the wall of crime scene photos. I make sure to keep my face blank and glance at all the pictures. Gruesome is the only word that comes to mind. Well, maybe 'messy.' I'm sure every agent who looks at these pictures wishes the killer chose something besides disemboweling his victims. 

Perhaps the creepiest thing is the purple rose placed in each victim's open mouth. 

When the 'tour' is finished, I sit down to read about the Rose Killer. It only takes 20 minutes before my head begins to pound. God, no wonder this team always looks strung out. Five victims and absolutely no useful leads. Not one. It must drive them crazy. 

And it's impossible to get a good lead because the killer has left no evidence and there's nothing similar about the victims. Five victims to date, over the last three months. Three men, two women. Ages 32 to 61. Everything from a waitress to an engineer to a retiree. Three Caucasians, one African American, one Asian. Not a single one lived in the same city. And the spacing between victims has been very erratic. From one week to one month. 

I'm absentmindedly rubbing my temple when a voice behind me causes me to jump slightly. "Agent Krycek?" 

I turn to face an unusually tall, slender Korean man. Probably in his early forties. I stand, extend my hand, and reply, "Yeah. Agent Kym?" 

He shakes my hand. "Yung Kym. Nice to meet you, and nice to have some more help on this case. So, what do you think?" He nods to the folder. 

"I think it would be nice if these people all belonged to a religious cult so we'd have some way to tie them together." 

Kym gives a wry chuckle. "All go to the same paranoid schizophrenic hairdresser? The lack of commonality is certainly the thorn in our side." 

"BSU have anything useful?" 

He looks momentarily aggrieved. "Sadly, no. I don't think they quite know what to make of our boy. His victims don't fit any known serial killer pattern. They think he's a Caucasian, in his thirties, probably unemployed. Not a whole lot to work with. We're at the stage where we need a lot of manpower to go over every minute detail, looking for... anything." 

Kym glances around the room. "Most of the team is out in the field, interviewing known associates of the victims, so you'll meet them later. I'd like you to finish reviewing the victim profiles, then look at the forensic reports. Be creative, and don't hesitate to discuss any idea. Right now, a fresh perspective is what we need." He pauses. "Any questions?" 

"No, sir. But, I'm sure I will later." 

He nods and moves over to talk with Agent Mallory. Mallory has to be another junior agent. Looks to be close to my age, good looking, black hair, close to six feet. 

After a few more hours of reading, I gather up the unread files and head for home. 

Nick is sitting on the stairs outside my apartment when I arrive. I refused to see him this weekend. He gives me a sultry smile. I think about sending him home--I have a ton of information to review tonight--but at the last minute, I haul him up and drag him into my apartment. I will get to the case later. 

* * *

Washington D.C.  
Wednesday, 25 May 1994  
7:05 P.M. 

Wednesday evening, I am on my way out of the Bureau when a black sedan pulls up and the back door opens. I peer inside and see the glowing tip of a cigarette. I suppress a sigh and climb in. It seems risky for him to pick me up here. 

He waits until we are out of the parking garage to speak. "You've been distinguishing yourself." He does not sound happy. 

I wonder what he's talking about. Just like the rest of the team, I've made no progress on the Rose Killer case. "I was under the impression that I was supposed to distinguish myself." 

"Refrain from revealing some of your more extensive training. You are a green FBI agent. Try to remember that." There is never a right thing to say to him, so I opt for an expression of confusion. I really do not know why he's annoyed. 

He lights another cigarette and explains that the way I restrained the Bingham suspect was commented upon. I keep my face carefully neutral, but think this whole thing is foolish. I cannot believe he went to the effort of picking me up for this. 

I am correct. There is more. "Establishing yourself with the FBI is certainly your highest priority but I may have a little extra project for you soon. We might as well get our money's worth." 

I nod and he has the car stopped. I get out, not saying a word even though he's dropped me a couple of miles from the Hoover. 

I start the walk back, feeling like an idiot. The reason I am here is never far from my mind, but life was starting to feel normal. Truthfully, I do not even know what normal is, but the work and routine were too easy to fall into. Too easy to imagine that this is my real life. Fuck. Never forget who you are, Krycek. 

My mind drifts to Aleksei and I shut it down. I could smack myself. Ten years and I can count the number of times I have thought of him on one hand. 

* * *

Mike's Gym  
9:33 P.M. 

Driving to the gym, I find myself wanting to smash my car through anything that gets in the way. 

I lost a battle with the Director today... had to shut down the X-Files. He also insisted on separating Mulder and Scully, assigning him to White Collar Crime and her to teach at Quantico. 

I resent the large number of management decisions forced on me that offer no benefit to law enforcement. Or even impede it. 

Mulder's pissed. I can't blame him. Sometimes I can't justify the orders I give. I don't like it any better than he does. 

Lifting the heaviest weights I can move might help blow off the tension. Maybe I'll do supersets. 

* * *

Retrieving my car from the Bureau garage, I drive home feeling frustrated and annoyed. I pace my apartment agitatedly. Nick calls. I tell him not to come over. Maybe tomorrow. 

At 10:30 P.M., I'm still frustrated for no definable reason. Or at least, no reason I care to define. I change into running shorts, tank top and sweat shirt. Grabbing my gym bag, I head for my car. 

I find myself in the parking lot of Mike's gym. I do not expect to find Skinner here; there are virtually no cars in the parking lot. But I know if I could seek him out right now, I would. I want him to fuck me again. Finally admitting it to myself makes me bang my head on the steering wheel. 

Hopping out of the car, I grab my bag. I know they're open 'til midnight. I hate working out with weights, so I only need time on the treadmill. I hope an hour is enough to run this day out of my system. 

I pay the guy behind the counter for a single-use pass and head into the facility. The few people present are working with free weights. The cardio equipment is all available. I'm almost to the treadmill, when a big man stands up from a bench press about fifteen feet away, wiping his face with a towel. 

I've never seen him without his glasses on. My bag slips from my fingers. As if he feels the weight of my gaze, he turns and looks directly at me. A sense of surprise passes across his face, then it goes flat. I try to compose my features, knowing the shock shows in my expression. He nods at me and moves to another bench. 

He's wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt. He looks fucking sexy. I'm torn between fleeing and throwing myself at him. I need to get myself together. I snap my jaw shut, suddenly aware of it hanging open, and force my expression into an approximation of neutral. 

I cannot stop watching as the man does a triceps French press with about half my body weight on each arm. I'd pay a lot of money to see him work out in the nude. 

I select the treadmill with the best view of the free weight area. After a quick warm-up, I'm running at a good clip. Yes, it is possible to run with a hard-on. When I'm not looking at Walter Skinner, I'm thinking about him. Since I admitted to myself that I want him again, I almost cannot keep from dragging him out of here. 

But there's the rub. I don't know if he wants me. There's no telling how he would respond if I tried to put the moves on him again. I do not relish the idea of being beaten into the ground. 

I avoid looking his direction, suddenly regretting selecting this treadmill. It feels as if everything is pointless. I want Walter Skinner, so it's logical to assume I cannot have him. I'm turned on and frustrated and hating this fucking life. I slam my hand down on the STOP button. Grabbing my stuff, I head out of the gym. 

A few moments of pacing the parking lot and I could kick myself. Why screw up a perfectly good opportunity to ogle the man? God, snap out of it, Krycek. 

Oh, fuck it. Worst case, he says no. Well, worst case, he beats me to a pulp, then says no, but I think it's worth the risk. Turning around, I head back into the gym. 

The kid behind the desk looks up at me. "You're back. Did you forget something?" 

"No. Went to grab my towel." 

"Okay. The locker rooms are back there." He points to door behind the free-weight area. "We close in 30 minutes so you should have plenty of time." 

Well, we shall see. 

I enter the locker room. It's empty except for the janitor. He has just finished mopping the tile area near the toilet stalls and glances at me with a slight frown. "Hey, pal, I wanna get outta here early. Think you could try to be neat so I can go?" 

How convenient. "Sure thing. Have a nice evening." I give him a bland smile. 

He pushes the mop bucket out of sight and I hear a door shut. He nods at me as he leaves the locker room. 

On a whim, I decide to check out where he went. At the end of a row of stalls is a closet with a very flimsy lock. Hmm. I grab a credit card out of my bag and open the door. Very tidy closet, and not as small as it looks from the outside. Someone's anal retentive. Either the janitor or the mysterious Mike. 

I return to the locker and shower area to find Skinner walking into locker room. My steps falter. 

He eyes me warily while working the combination of a locker. "Agent." 

Forcing my feet back into motion, I reply with an equally neutral, "Assistant Director." I step over to the bench where my bag is resting and pull out my towel. Reaching for the hem of my sweatshirt, I pull it over my head as he begins rustling around in his locker. 

I wonder how long he's been working out. His T-shirt is sweat soaked and clinging to his torso. I find myself curious as to how he smells. I wish I had positioned my gym bag better so I had a reason to stand closer to him. 

Skinner had a hard-on for me once, but I don't know if that was a fluke or because he finds me attractive. Well, you play the hand you're dealt. I change my position so I am partially facing away and pull off my tank top. Using the shirt, I wipe excess sweat from the back of my neck. I kick away my shoes and reach for the waistband of my shorts. I am not going to wave my butt at the man, but there is no denying that his view is primarily of my ass. I push the shorts down over my hips and let them drop to the floor. Picking them up with my toes, I set them on the pile of clothes. 

Well, there's no hiding my erection. I turn back to face him as I reach for my towel. 

Skinner is frozen, his arms about to remove his own T-shirt. His eyes meet mine. There's a vaguely tormented look about him. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing provocatively. Eyes never leaving mine, he pulls off his shirt. 

The sight of his bare torso almost makes me come. My cock twitches. It's obvious he is definitely interested. But he's so damned cautious. I reach into my bag for two essential items--condom and a foil pack of lube--enclosing them in my towel. At the shower, I set my towel on a bench and turn on the water. I get the temperature a few degrees below boiling and step under the spray. The communal shower is open to the locker room area... fitting nicely into my plan. 

Without glancing at Skinner, I reach for some soap from the wall-mounted dispenser and run it over my chest. For a few moments, I massage my chest and abdomen, staying away from my over-excited cock--I'm not putting on that kind of show. I reach for more soap and move my hands around to my hips and butt. Taking a moment to work the soap into a lather, I finally slide the fingertips of one hand along the crack of my ass. 

I hear a soft gasp from behind me. I quickly rinse the soap and turn the shower spray off. I catch Skinner's gaze. Those deep brown eyes seem to burn. His eyes brush over my body, eliminating any doubts about his attraction. Then he glances around the locker room and shrugs slightly. He's wearing only a towel. 

I drop my voice and make sure the desire is written all over my face. "We have fifteen minutes and there is a private room." 

After a moment's hesitation, he responds with a slight nod. 

I grab the towel and head to the closet. He is fairly quiet, but I hear enough to know he is following. Inside the closet, I move to the far wall, dropping the towel and reaching up for the light string. Hearing the door close behind me, I wonder if I am going to have to continue to persuade him. 

Warm hands on my shoulders tell me otherwise. And then his body is pressed behind me, his breath raspy in my ears. His arms wrap around me, trapping my arms at the side of my body. The texture of his towel is rough against my ass cheeks. His strong hands wander the front of my body, stroking my chest, kneading my pecs and sliding down to my belly. 

My breath catches in my throat and all rational thoughts flee. My head falls back against his shoulder. My arms are confined, but I reach back enough to grab his hips, pulling him toward me as I push my ass back. My butt is firmly in contact with his towel-covered erection. I can smell him now... a masculine, musky scent that ratchets my desire to a frantic level. 

His fingers grasp my erection and he strokes and pulls. Oh, Christ, he would not do that if he knew how close I was. I cannot prevent my groan as my hips jerk backward. His towel falls between us and suddenly his cock is gliding between my butt cheeks. His skin is smooth, the muscles firm under my grasping fingers. 

I really want him to fuck me this time. In the garage, I only wanted to keep the sex going, to keep his body against mine. Anything to end the weeks of frustration. The pleasure was a surprise. Tonight, I know I want his cock in my ass. 

"Condom? Lube?" 

Sliding out of his arms, I drop to one knee, quickly locating both. I start to hand them to him but rotate around instead. Oh fuck. His cock is as big as it feels. It's a good thing I did not see this in the garage. Not even blinding lust and weeks of pent-up sexual tension would have kept me there. Ripping the condom open with my teeth, I quickly roll it down his straining erection, then take a moment to stroke him. So smooth and hard. He emits a long slow groan. There's a throbbing sensation in my lower lip and I realize I've had it firmly clamped in my teeth. I release my lip and run my tongue over it, resisting the temptation to run it over Skinner's cock... we do not have much time and I need that cock up my ass. 

Tearing open the lube packet, I apply some to my hand and spread it over him slowly. A distant part of my brain cannot believe I'm doing this. It feels like a struggle to breathe, when he takes the lube packet from me and grabs my arm, pulling me up. 

"Lean against the wall." His voice is a low rasp. 

Turning around, I lean against the wall and rest my head on my forearms. 

The first thing I feel is his fingers sliding down my spine, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. Then he pulls my ass open and a cool finger presses into me. Gasping, I push back against the probing digit. I would never have predicted that my body would beg to have something stuck in my ass. 

He quickly inserts another finger, stretching and rubbing. His other hand finds my balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. It feels so good. I'm almost panting as I thrust back against his hand. 

He growls into my ear and his cock brushes against my ass cheeks. 

I do not want to wait. "Do it." 

Skinner releases my balls. The fingers are withdrawn. The head of his cock nudges my anus. The push, when it comes, is excruciatingly slow. It takes an unbearably long time for just the head to enter me. I hold my breath for a moment. There is a flash of pain and I welcome it. I know I will have a couple of days to feel this. Days to stroke my tender anus, every twinge reminding me of this fuck. 

Then his arm wraps around my waist and he drives all the way into me. I catch the cry in my throat, making a strangled sound. He pauses, his breathy voice near my ear. "So damned tight." Fuck, his deep voice turns me on. 

He begins to thrust. The first feel of his hard cock moving in my ass brings me close to the edge. I fight back my orgasm but my mind throws up a picture. The picture of his dick sliding in and out of me, and I am again a breath from coming. I groan and bite my lip, fighting the urge, needing this to go on a little longer. 

I press back, meeting every thrust. His cock repeatedly rubs my prostate--the spot my sex partners have moaned about, but I had never before been able to appreciate--and the sharp pleasure mingles with the pain of his penetration. 

His hand slides down my abdomen and onto my cock. It's too much, too soon. My head comes away from the wall and my hips jerk back, impaling me further on his cock. "No... oh, god, I don't want to come yet." 

Skinner makes a sound... a half chuckle, half moan, but the hand releases my cock and moves up my chest. He strokes me, then pinches a nipple. I drop my head on my arms and groan. 

The power and speed of his fucking increases. I savor the feeling of his heavy body slamming into me. I fervently wish this were more than a quick fuck... I want to touch him, feel his skin. I settle for the part of him I am touching, and clench my rectum around him on his next thrust. 

"Ah, fuck." His body shudders and for a moment his movements are sloppy. He regains his control and takes me even more vigorously, but soon he gasps for air and begins to come. As I feel his cock throbbing inside me, his hand gropes for mine. In a clumsy attempt to stroke me he manages only to brush it, but that is enough. I bite my arm to keep from yelling as my climax takes over. 

For a few seconds, every nerve ending sparks to life, with pleasure so acute as to be painful, focused on the area where his body impales me. I have to remind myself to breathe as I come down from the high, feeling his body--warm, smooth skin--against mine. 

His arms wrap around my waist, just holding me upright, as both of us catch our breath. I like having his arms around me, enough that warning bells go off in my brain, telling me to get away. But, for some bizarre reason, I am content to just stay here like this. 

After a couple of minutes, he clears his throat and whispers, "Thank you." 

I cannot think of how to respond. Unable to speak, I nod my head but find one of my hands rubbing his encircling arms. 

He pulls back, allowing his cock to slide out of me. I am not quite successful at suppressing the small whimper, and wonder if I will get used to the fleeting sense of loss when our bodies are no longer connected. 

As I turn around, he removes the condom and drops it in what appears to be a waste can. He picks up the towels and passes me mine. His goes back around his waist. 

He seems to be waiting for me to put on my towel, but I just throw it over my arm and open the door. 

As I step outside, I encounter a muscled 50-something man. He gives me a questioning look and steps up to me. "What are you doing?" 

I raise one eyebrow and smile pleasantly. "Is there a particular reason why I should answer that question?" My voice is calm. 

Skinner steps out from behind me and the unknown man's eyes bug out. "Hello, Mike," he says smoothly. 

"Walter," he replies in a confused tone. 

As if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, Skinner walks to the showers, doffs his towel and adjusts the spray. 

Mike looks at me as if I'm from Neptune. I grab his hand and shake it firmly. "Pleasure to meet you." I move away before it dawns on him that I didn't introduce myself. 

I slip into my clean sweats, occasionally glancing at Skinner. Remembering the awkwardness after our last encounter, I decide to leave before he finishes showering. As he passes his face under the shower spray, I pick up my bag and slip out the door. Mike watches me with a bemused expression on his face. 

* * *

As I walk out to the car, I'm still rather shocked at myself. Did I really fuck Alex Krycek in the cleaning closet of the locker room? Mike will never be the same. 

On Saturday, I told myself that sex with Krycek was just an outlet for my frustration about my marriage. A one-time demonstration that I'm still a healthy human male. 

Tonight, I discovered the truth. He's a hot little fucker and I really enjoy touching him. In spite of the fact that I can quickly name two very good reasons why I should never lay a hand on him again, I know I want to. He won't have to work so hard to convince me next time. 

Yes, I feel guilty about my marriage and about my job responsibilities, but those feelings are weak compared to the youthful joy I'm experiencing at having a sexy new lover. 

Back at home, I lie in the bed in the guest room. The image of Krycek in the shower, soaping up his crack is my last thought before I fall asleep. 

* * *

Washington D.C.  
Thursday, 26 May 1994  
9:30 A.M. 

Thursday morning is a long struggle trying to focus on the Rose Killer briefing. It's too easy to let my mind wander to last night. To see myself braced against a wall while Walter's cock pounded into me. Coming at just the brush of his fingers. God, I come so easily with him... it's almost embarrassing. 

For what feels like the fortieth time, I force myself to shake off the images and concentrate on the meeting. 

This is the first time I've seen the entire team crammed into the ops room. There are no empty chairs. I'm one of several agents seated back from the over crowded table, balancing files and tablets on our laps. I have a nice view of the back of Mallory's dark head. The discussion is intense, as possible leads are brought up, thoroughly reviewed, and--very unfortunately--ultimately discarded. 

The conversation unerringly turns to the color and type of flower. Something I've been doing a lot of reading on. I lead forward to make sure I don't miss anything. I feel a twinge of discomfort in my asshole as I shift positions, and, yet again, have to banish thoughts of last night. 

Two agents are arguing about the meaning of the flower. "No. Roses only symbolize love. Various types of love, but always love." 

"But the color of the rose can change the meaning." 

"Yes, but always to some other type of love... joy, friendship, remembrance, purity, romance... but always tied to love. That's what the flower symbolizes." 

The argument about rose symbolism rages on. The first agent is correct. Roses always symbolize some sort of love. But I don't think the type of flower is really significant. The color, on the other hand... 

Section Chief Baker asks the opinion of another junior agent sitting two chairs from me. He somehow manages to agree with both sides of the argument. 

"And what about you, Krycek?" 

Well, I knew that was coming. Sort of a 'quiz the junior agents' moment. "While I agree that roses always symbolize love, I do not agree that the symbolism of the flower has anything to do with the killings. In this instance, the color of the flower seems more significant than the type of flower." 

The dissenting agent pipes up, "Exactly. Purple roses signify fascination... enchantment." 

Shit. That was not what I meant. I'm about to clarify when Baker addresses me again. "You agree?" 

"No. I think it's possible the color symbolizes something. The rose seems irrelevant." 

The agent I just disagreed with clenches his teeth. Another senior agent chimes in and the focus moves back to the table. "Good point. As we've discussed, the color purple can signify power, leadership, wealth and respect. So, it does seem likely that the color is symbolic of the motive behind the killing... an expression of power." 

I completely disagree, but heave an inaudible sigh, shrug slightly and look down at my notepad. 

"You disagree, Agent Krycek?" I look up at Unit Manager Kym. He's been quiet through the entire meeting, and I was not aware he had been looking my direction. 

I hesitate; it won't be productive to annoy the senior agents on the team. "Not necessarily," I hedge. 

Kym rests his arms on the table and rubs the bridge of his nose. One of the other agents begins to espouse the 'purple means power' theory but Baker waves him down, watching Kym. 

Agent Kym looks back at me again. "We need fresh perspectives. If you have an opinion, I want to hear it." 

I shrug. Oh well, disagreeing with someone is certainly not the most offensive thing I've ever done. "I don't think it's much of a stretch to assume that power, or the exercising of it, has something to do with this killing... since it's a fairly common component of most murders. But I think, in this case, the act of power is just in the killing. The color of the flower might be symbolic of something else." 

"Such as?" 

"Well, we've only examined the classic meanings of the color purple. But, taken in context, there are a lot more meanings to the color. For instance, in several religions, purple is a color that signifies penance." 

The 'purple is power' agent jumps in with, "So, are you trying to say you think the killer is making his victims pay for something?" The mocking tone is impossible to miss but easily ignored. 

"No. I'm saying that by focusing only on traditional interpretations of the flower or the color, we're not exploring possible insight into the killer's motive." 

Kym looks thoughtful and nods. "And let's all remember that the flower may mean absolutely nothing. Which is about what we're getting from BSU these days." Everyone gives an obligatory chuckle. It's too painfully true. "Okay, kids. Enough for today. I need to meet separately with Gough, Mallory and Lawrence. Reese, since you and Krycek have such divergent views on the meaning of the color, you two work together on the report and get it to me by end of day." 

Oh, lovely. 

I arrive home Thursday evening with hours of forensic reports to review because I spent all day preparing a report about the color purple. Nick is once again waiting outside my apartment. 

Shifting my burden under my left arm, I fumble for my keys. "Why are you here, Nick? I thought we agreed that I would call you this weekend." 

His hand lightly caresses my butt as I push the door open and step away from him. "Yeah... but I wanted to see you. You know I'll make it worthwhile." He gives me a flirtatious look as he steps into my apartment. 

I'm tempted to tell him to leave but don't want to risk a scene in an open doorway with my neighbors around. I kick the door shut and set my stuff on the coffee table. When I turn around, Nick is there, reaching for me. I capture his hands and push him away. 

"I already told you, I don't like unannounced visits. What part didn't you understand?" 

He looks a little surprised, but he's back to seductive mode in a blink. "Come on, Alex. I can make you feel good. You look tired and stressed... and a little hostile. Let me make you feel better, baby." 

"What would make me feel better is for you to leave. Because I am feeling hostile. I do not like unannounced visitors and really do not like being called 'baby.'" 

He grins at me. "Hostile is okay... I can handle you aggressive, baby." 

Suddenly, my plans for the evening change. I grab him and slam him against the wall, pinning him with the weight of my body. He gives a surprised gasp. 

"You think so?" My voice is barely a hiss. 

He swallows, briefly looking a little nervous, but I feel his cock begin to harden against my hip. His tongue darts across his lips, then he nods his head. 

"Well, we shall see. Oh, and Nick... if you're too tired to drive, you sleep on the couch." He gives a delighted shiver. Fuck. I jerk him away from the wall and push him toward the bedroom. 

* * *

Huntersville, North Carolina  
Friday, 27 May 1994  
6:01 P.M. 

This afternoon, Section Chief Baker's call interrupted a meeting with the Director. Baker informed us that a sixth Rose Killer body was found in Huntersville, North Carolina. His team and BSU were already on site. 

I'd been avoiding direct involvement in this case, but since it doesn't appear to be going away, it's time I checked out the scene. 

Following Baker's directions, I drive to the site. It's an old farmhouse, surrounded by state police vehicles, unmarked American cars and two coroner's vans. I park in the grass and scan the swarm of Coke-drinking law enforcement officials for someone I know. 

Seeing no familiar faces, I pull out my shield as I pass a local cop who appears to be serving as gatekeeper. He directs me around the house to the barn. 

The barn looks like it's about to collapse, but it's so dilapidated the danger is minimal. I think the team could survive being struck by falling moth-eaten boards. The most lethal aspect of the site is definitely the smell. 

One of Baker's men spots me and passes the Vicks, which I gratefully smear under my nostrils. Baker joins me and gives a tour of the site. The body has been here for a couple of days. No question it wasn't pretty when it was fresh. Krycek is actually with the forensic team, labeling evidence bags. 

It's a sad state of affairs when you find a disemboweled corpse boring, but I'm far more interested in hearing a review of the evidence. Baker and I lean against the evidence team van. 

"So do we have anything?" 

His heavy sigh gives me the big picture instantaneously. "Yeah, but it's the same as before. Still a purple rose, as you probably noticed. Same or similar blade." 

"Who found the body?" 

"The elderly couple who lives in the house. They noticed a bad odor. They're at the hospital. The husband was taken out in an ambulance about half an hour after we got here. Heart problems." 

"Have you got someone searching the woods?" 

"Kym, Lawrence and Mallory." Baker teases the end of his moustache with short, delicate fingers. 

"You getting the support you need from the locals?" 

"Yes, sir. They're not too bad. Except for every single cop in a fifty mile radius wanting to look at the body..." He shakes his head. 

**"BSU?"**

Baker shrugs. "They've given me a profile, but it's still too vague to be useful. I mean there are a lot of unemployed white guys in their 30s in the greater D.C. area." 

"So what do you need to solve this case, Baker?" 

He looks up at me with a grim expression. "A confession?" 

"You want some fresh agents to canvas the town?" 

"No, sir. Gough and Reese are doing that now. I'll go through again tomorrow in case they missed something." 

I nod. This case seems a long way from resolution. "You need anything, I need to know. ASAP." 

"Yes, sir." 

"How's Krycek working out? I noticed you had him working on the corpse with the evidence guys." 

"He wouldn't have been my first choice, but I was running out of people who hadn't thrown up in the bushes. The kid knows how to keep his lunch down. His skin was a little green, but he did the job." 

I pull out my cell and phone the Rose Killer operations center. No news is bad news. I call BSU and ask the senior unit manager to get his profilers to be a little more concrete. I can't think of any other way to help. 

After the body's taken away, most of the crowd goes home. There's still one site team scouring the woods behind the barn, but the rest are packing it in. 

Intending to drive back to D.C., I head for my car, but spot Krycek leaning against a car, stripping off his latex gloves. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, coat and tie long since abandoned. He looks solemn, maybe thoughtful. 

I modify my course to pass him. "You okay, Agent Krycek?" 

He glances up, his pale face blank for a second. There's a spark of recognition. "Yeah. Just fine." His voice is low and quiet. 

"Is this the first one you've seen?" 

"Yeah." 

I rest my foot on the car tire. "Not losing your lunch bought you a senior place on the team." 

Krycek responds with a fleeting half smile. "I don't think labeling evidence bags and tucking in a man's intestines comes under the heading of 'advanced field work.'" 

I can't help but offer a weak smile in return. "I won't tell you how many cases I worked before someone decided I was competent to print the date on an empty evidence bag." 

He chuckles and runs his fingers through his disheveled hair, then gazes at me intently. "Sir, may I be blunt about something not related to this case?" 

I can't stop myself from glancing around. We're at least fifteen feet from anyone else. "You may," I reply in a cautious tone. 

Krycek steps closer. He looks damned good, even rumpled and sweaty. His voice is low. "These days, it seems like I have a hard-on every time I even think about you. Frankly, it is driving me insane... wondering if it will happen again. I want..." he breaks off, looking thoughtful. 

Even as he speaks, I feel my cock thicken. No way I want to have this sort of conversation here. 

I decide in an instant. "Half the team is staying here in Huntersville, but 20 miles up the highway is Davidson. There's one hotel... on Range Road. I'll get a room. Why don't you see if you can find a drugstore and meet me there?" 

He briefly looks surprised, but composes his features and nods his head before replying, "I'll look for your car. If you leave the room door propped open, I should be able to find you." 

I nod my agreement. He stares at me for a second then moves away, crossing a grassy area to his car. 

When I drive up to the motel, the Valley Forge Inn, I'm mortified that I'm actually bringing someone here. But they give me a room on the most private far end. It's clean, at least. Burnt orange carpeting isn't very inspiring, but it'll do. Somehow I feel like the tawdry room reflects on me, the cheating husband. 

I shed my coat and tie, then wash my face. After cracking the door open, I stand by the window, waiting. Fifteen minutes or so later, I see him park and glance around. 

A moment later, Krycek enters. He drops a small paper bag on the table. Running his hand through his hair, he mutters, "Abysmal selection of lube." 

I stare at him. I want to kiss him, but I don't. It feels awkward. But my eyes are on his mouth. 

He starts to say something else and stops, biting his lip for a second. "I'll be back... going to wash up." He meets my gaze briefly, then walks to the bathroom. 

I close the blinds and stow my gun, plus the contents of my pockets, in the bedside table. After removing my shirt and my undershirt, I toss them on the dresser. I turn down the bed and sit in the room's only chair to undo my shoes. 

Alex returns a few minutes later, towel around his waist, hair damp. He leans against the wall. His gaze wanders over my body, stopping on my chest before returning to my face. 

I watch him silently for a few minutes, allowing him an opportunity to talk if he wants to. He seems relaxed... content to just look at me. 

I walk over to him and reach my arm around his back, pulling him to my chest. There's a flash of surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by desire. My mouth finds his and my tongue slips inside. A small sound issues from the back of his throat before his tongue caresses mine. His arm slides around my waist. Our tongues tangle for a few seconds and he groans, trying to press closer with his body and mouth. 

His mouth is hot and silky smooth. He tastes better than I'd imagined. He smells good, too. Clean and almost sweet. My senses are over stimulated. 

Our kiss is rapidly escalating. My cock wants to be freed from my clothing. My mouth, still kissing, moves up the side of his face. "Take off my pants," I whisper in his ear. 

His breath is raspy as he fumbles with my belt buckle, his movements oddly uncoordinated. He stills and takes a few measured breaths, resting his head against my collarbone. I stroke his back. Maybe he's not used to bossy lovers, or I'm coming on too strong. I am about to inquire when his hands are at my waist, pushing slightly. I take a step back. 

Flicking his towel to the side, he slides to his knees and reaches for the fastening of my pants. His tongue finds my navel as he tugs the zipper down. Sucking and licking a trail across my abdomen, he reaches into my briefs and closes his fingers around my cock, freeing it from the confines of my underwear. 

The head of my dick grazes his collarbone and neck as his lips and tongue continue their exploration of my stomach. The thought of those sexy lips on my cock is making my head spin. He strokes the shaft lightly a few times before gripping my pants and briefs, pulling them down and allowing me to step out. 

His mouth briefly brushes the inside of my thigh. Without warning, my cock is down his throat, and his hands are gripping my ass. 

I manage to emit a weak moan. Oh, Christ. I've never had anyone initiate a blowjob that quickly. It feels like he's going to suck my entire body down his throat. 

It's been so damned long since I've been sucked like this. My knees are suddenly weak. I'm fighting the urge to fuck his face, because he's doing such a damned good job without my help. My hands grip his shoulders, holding on to the only stable object within my reach. 

His tongue applies more pressure to the underside of my cock. The next time he takes me all the way down his throat, he gives me more suction and his throat clenches around the head of my dick. 

One of his hands finds my balls, squeezing and caressing, as his mouth moves more rapidly on my dick. The other hand trails along the crack of my ass, until I feel pressure directly under my anus. 

I can almost feel the blood draining from my brain as the hot mouth clamped on to me sucks me over the edge. I growl as I come in his mouth. Only as the final explosion subsides do I realize I've left marks on his shoulders. I loosen my hands and rub lightly... a non-verbal apology. 

The boy has just given me the best blowjob of my life. 

I'm so drained, remaining on my feet seems like a challenge. I extricate myself from his grasp and sit on the edge of the bed. 

Green eyes are fixed on me, glittering and intense. His lower lip is wet, his expression radiating lust. He's a beautiful animal... so passionate. 

He sits back on his heels, his back almost touching the wall. One hand rests lightly on his thigh. The fingertips of the other trail across his mouth and then glide down his neck. He moves both hands to his chest, rubbing across his nipples repeatedly. After pinching them, he moves further south to caress his abdomen. His eyes never leave my face. 

There is nothing I want more right now than to watch him perform for me. "Do it," I say softly. 

Alex's hands move firmly across his taut abdomen before sliding between his thighs. His hands simply rest against his thighs, but when he spreads his knees it creates the illusion of him pushing his legs apart. My flaccid cock twitches at the sight. 

Knees spread wide, eyes locked on me, he begins lightly caressing his balls. The other hand wanders back to his chest as he squeezes his testicles more firmly. He pinches one nipple as his hand closes around his erection. He strokes himself slowly. His head drops back against the wall, eyes still focused in my direction, as he moans low in his throat. 

"So sexy, Alex." 

His lower lip is between his teeth. His chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. The speed of his stroking increases and pre-cum leaks from the tip of his cock. He caresses his chest, then moves his fingers to his lips, inserting two into his mouth. Sucking them in and out for a few seconds, he then trails the wet fingers back to his nipple as the rhythm of his stroking becomes erratic, and he begins to gasp. 

Hips thrusting, a groan comes from deep in his chest as his cock erupts over his fist. Those beautiful eyes reflexively close as tremors rack his body. He strokes his cock lightly as his orgasm recedes. 

Finally, he's still, head resting against the wall, breathing hard. 

I squat on the floor next to him, reaching for his right hand. I lift it to my face and suck one of his semen-wet fingers into my mouth. 

His eyes fly open and he stops breathing. Then his breath escapes in a rush. 

I push his hand to his own lips. 

His eyes widen briefly, then his tongue slides out, running over the fingertips before sucking them into his mouth. At my urging, he slowly licks his fingers clean. It's hard to breathe watching him do that. 

I rise and extend a hand to him. He takes it and allows me to help him to his feet. I lead him to the bed, and he lies down. Removing my glasses, I slide in next to him. I roll onto my side and put an arm around his waist. 

He rolls over, facing away and spoons back toward me. I kiss the back of his neck and pet his abdomen. He feels good in my arms. He doesn't seem to expect much from me, but so easily accepts whatever I give. I like that about him. 

Between kisses, I speak softly into his ear. "You're very sexy, Alex." I knead his pecs. "I enjoy touching you." My hand slides down and around to his ass. "Your ass is extremely fuckable." He moans at the words and exposes more of his neck to me. There is a hiss of indrawn breath as I tease his crack. "And your cocksucking is a religious experience." 

Alex emits a throaty chuckle as he turns his head to look at me. His voice is low and husky. "I'm glad you approve." His mouth finds mine, his tongue teasing my lips. I suck it into my mouth, but soon move the action into his. He tastes faintly of mint. We could both use a shave. I have to be careful or we'll leave marks on each other's faces. 

I pull back from the kiss and study his face. His green eyes watch me warily. He's a little unsure of himself around me and that's not a comfortable feeling for him. I don't know precisely how, but this affair is catching him off guard. 

His face is masculine, but also pretty. His nose and ears are small... the nose turned up at the tip. It's a bit silly. His cheekbones are high. The face would pass for cute on anyone else, but his dark, aggressive personality obliterates any trace of cute. The earnest young agent routine is an act. He's too confident and edgy to pull it off. 

Under my inspection, he frowns a bit, causing a crease to form between his brows. That is cute, but I dare not say so. I smile, remembering my own need to present a faade at his age. 

Alex turns on his back so he doesn't have to crane his neck around. His expression relaxes and he looks at me steadily. After a few moments, he smiles and starts to wiggle down the bed, murmuring as he goes. His voice is faint, but I catch part as he turns toward me, licking at my nipples. "...wondered what you... decided I do not want to know." 

Lips, teeth and tongue mark a trail from one nipple to the other. Rolling the nipple with his tongue, his hands roam over my body--one hand lazily stroking between my thighs and the other sliding over my hips and ass. 

It's too soon for an old man like me to get hard again, but it feels wonderful. I like being desired by him. 

His mouth completes a thorough exploration of my chest before he scoots a little lower to explore stomach and hips. I catch more disjointed murmuring, "...wondering what you taste like." And then, "...hard-on in a meeting, thinking about how you smell." 

I'm fighting to keep from laughing at his absurd ramblings. His tongue traces the various scars on my abdomen, sucking lightly at a few of them. The sensation of his mouth on the scar tissue is muted but still tingly. My mind briefly wanders to Vietnam and Larry, before the movement of Alex's tongue brings me back to the present. 

Moving lower, his tongue slides down the length of my cock and over the head, then he licks my balls. He spends a few moments sucking them into his mouth before his lips follow the path of his hands to my legs. 

I capture his head between my thighs and squeeze. Then, releasing him, I stroke his hair. 

He gives a short laugh. This time, I hear him clearly. "I finally get to touch your incredibly hot body and you pull a WWF move on me." His mouth plays with the inside of one knee before he continues, "Try to not bean me with a metal folding chair." 

"It's not in the plan, Alex." I'm tickled like a teenager by his praise for my body. Content to let him explore me, I grapple for a conversation opener. "Tell me about bike riding--you do ride, don't you? The shorts made quite an impression." 

Apparently tired of struggling to reach the back of my body, Alex moves to his knees and climbs over me. His lips touch the back of my thigh and his hands resume their slow caress of my legs. "Really? Hmm... Uh, yeah, I ride. I only use exercise equipment when I have to. I like activities that take me somewhere." He nips lightly at the back of one thigh before sucking it and soothing it with his tongue. "Umm... I was actually a little annoyed that Mathis would not give me time to change... guess I owe him one." His tongue finds the juncture where thigh meets ass and plays for a moment. "What a horrible thought." 

I resist the urge to tell him exactly what I think of his pathetic manager. "Where do you go when you ride?" 

Alex's hands and mouth are now concentrated on my ass. His tongue and lips taste and tease one cheek before he responds. "All over. I start out in one direction and see where it takes me. Sometimes I get a little wrapped up in my thoughts and find myself an hour and a half from home. There is actually a really nice spot to ride on some property owned by the water district." He pauses for a moment. "You have an incredible ass." The stroking of his hands becomes a little firmer and his mouth plays along the crack. 

Christ. We were talking about something, weren't we? My legs are starting to shake. 

My brain registers the unique sensation of his scratchy evening beard against the tender flesh of my butt as his fingers pull my ass cheeks apart. His tongue slides in, lapping at the sensitive ring of my anus. 

"Uhhhh..." The soft, wet feel of his tongue is making my flesh turn liquid. My cock twitches. I can already tell he's going to get me hard again in record time. His tongue caresses the opening for several long moments before he pushes inside. I make a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. 

His tongue moves in me for several moments then withdraws to resume licking around my anus. A breathless minute later, he shifts his body and moves his attention to my back, licking and sucking a path to my shoulders. He stills, his head resting near my shoulder blade, one hand caressing my ass, the other resting lightly against my spine. "You like that?" His voice is a husky whisper. 

I reach behind myself awkwardly and manage to rumple his hair. "Fuck, Alex, what do you think?" 

"Mmm..." His lips move over my shoulder briefly before he speaks. "I think I'd like to call you by your first name." His fingers trail over my hip, then up my arm. "Would that be all right?" 

"Of course. Any man who has put his tongue up my ass has earned the privilege." 

"Well, that's good to know, Walter." There's laughter in his voice. "Is there any place else you would like me to stick my tongue?" 

I slip from his grasp and roll over on top of him, pinning his wrists to the bed with my hands. "Yeah." My mouth closes on his. After sucking his tongue and giving it a good chase around my mouth, I release his lips and kiss my way up the side of his face. When I reach his temple, I'm more nuzzling than kissing. It's so damned good to have uncomplicated sex like this. Still pinning him to the bed, I ask, "You do realize that I can't let you leave this bed until I have the opportunity to fuck you again?" 

His body moves under mine and I feel his cock thicken against my lower abdomen. "I certainly hope not." His voice is throaty. 

He's such a sweet bottom. So willing. And yet, I sense that it does not come easily to him. I shift my knees so they're between his and nudge. "Spread your legs." 

There's a flash of wariness in his eyes and he's still for a moment before he slowly parts his legs, bending his knees. 

Releasing his hands, I sit between his open legs. His body is laid out like an offering. He doesn't even move his hands from where I left them. His chest is lean and masculine. Just a hint of hair... nothing like the rug on mine. His cock is half hard. Circumcised, the head of it a perfect mushroom, with a drop of fluid at the tip. I want to taste it, so I do. 

Alex gasps, and a tremor passes through his body. 

Bland, with a hint of sweet. Nice. Looking at him and touching him aimlessly like this is such a luxury. Nothing to accomplish or prove. Just enjoying his body. And mine. 

"Why did you seduce me, Alex? What made you think you could get away with it?" 

His breath is a little uneven when he speaks. "Why? Because I had a hard-on for you before I ever even shook your hand. But I did not expect to get away with it... Some part of my brain expected you to pound me into the garage floor but I was a little, umm, distracted." He looks a bit uncomfortable telling me this. "Hell, Walter, you didn't even have a shirt on." 

"It's good to know I wasn't obvious about ogling your ass during the Bingham meetings. I'd like to think I have a better poker face than that." I absently stroke his inner thighs. "The looks you were giving me were unmistakable, but I never intended to actually act on this." Now, I, too, have said more than I intended to. 

Alex nods. "I am vaguely curious--well, more than vaguely--about why you changed your mind." I note that he's still keeping his hands where I put them. "Umm... mind you, I'm not complaining." 

I frown a little remembering that morning. I don't want to talk about my beleaguered marriage. "It did cross my mind to slug you, but then I realized a sincere 'no' would have sufficed. That was the problem. I didn't want to say no. It pissed me off, too. I'm sorry if I was needlessly rough or unkind." 

Alex looks uncomfortable. His hands twitch and his body tenses. "It was fine. I mean, I was fine." 

Fine? What a meaningless and evasive word. I brush my hands across his calves. I don't want to think too much about what I'm doing, why it's wrong and the possible consequences. I need time to just live in the moment. 

His body relaxes and his voice is soft. "Walter, it was incredibly hot sex. I have no misgivings... about any of it." 

I nod. Unfortunately, I'm filled with misgivings. But there's no denying the sex was incredibly hot. 

He seems to sense my mood and lifts his leg, running his foot along the top of my thigh. "I know this is more problematic for you... in every sense. If I were a nice guy, I would probably try to figure out the 'right' thing to do. But I am not a nice guy. I'm a selfish bastard who plans to keep seducing you. I will behave myself at work, but I want you, and will be available whenever you want me." 

Then the affair will continue. Because, at least for now, I am incapable of saying no. I sigh, accepting my flaws for today. "I don't have a lot of time, Alex, but I'll find a way." 

He gives me a thoughtful look. "I want this, but I'm not trying to make your life harder. Whenever you can." 

Appreciative of his gesture, I give him another nod. He plans to keep seducing me. What a delightful proposition. I smile down at him. "Can anyone resist you when you seduce, Alex?" 

He grins but doesn't reply. 

Beautiful and he knows it. Fuck. But I'm still smiling. 

* * *

No. No one has resisted my seduction yet, but I had thought Skinner might be the first. Very, very glad that was not the case. Although, I cannot believe I'm doing this--lying here with my hands where he put them--but I refuse to think about anything other than the incredibly hot body between my legs. I will smack myself around tomorrow. 

Walter extricates himself from the tangle of my legs and slides up next to me. I turn to face him and our mouths connect, tongues seeking. I feel a jolt of desire in my cock, then his hand closes around my erection. 

I moan into his mouth as my hips jerk, seeking more of the sensation. 

His cock is getting hard against my upper thigh as his arms encircle my waist, pulling me closer. He begins to rub our groins together and I barely manage to bite back a moan. My hands wander down his back, caressing his ass. Some perverse part of my brain whispers that I should have asked to move my hands, and I am suddenly so appalled by myself, I can barely breathe. I fight the urge to leap out of bed and figure out where I left the real me, when his mouth on my neck distracts me to the point of oblivion. 

He gnaws on my neck like a hungry animal. I know he's going to leave marks but I don't care. I want his marks all over my body. The hand on my cock moves to cup my balls, caressing them with smooth fingers. His other hand slides down my back and rubs my ass. My body writhes under his touch. He keeps it up for a long time, tongue lapping at my neck with an occasional bite. The fingers on my butt stroking and kneading... His breath is heavy and warm on the side of my face. I have never given anyone free rein of my body before and it feels like I am going insane with pleasure. 

Just when I think I can't take it any longer, he mutters, "Lube? Condom?" 

I curse myself for leaving the damned bag on the table. Groaning, I slip out of his arms, returning in a flash with the bag. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I dump the contents onto the sheet. As I open the box of condoms, a strong arm encircles my waist. I struggle to keep breathing, amazed at how his simplest touch affects me. He slips in behind me. The roughness of his evening beard brushes against the side of my face. 

Somehow I manage to get a condom out of the box and tear open the packet. Setting it and the bottle of lube on the pillow beside us, I brush the rest of it onto the floor. I turn my head and find his mouth for another kiss, wanting to feel his tongue. 

He kisses as if he's conquering territory. Maybe he is. Maybe that's what I want. I give my mouth over to him. The kisses make me hot, but his tongue in my mouth is almost a cruel tease, mimicking the act I really want him to perform. I groan my need. 

His hand slides through my hair to the back of my neck, holding my face for him to ravage. With a gasp, he releases my mouth, kissing down my chin and back to my neck. He pushes me onto my back and hovers over me, his mouth trailing down my chest. He licks and bites at my nipples. I arch my back, pushing toward his tormenting mouth. 

Walter grins at my whimpers, obviously enjoying what he's doing to me. Sliding lower between my legs, he nips at my belly and brushes his lips across my abdomen. I am half embarrassed that I cannot control my body... that I do not even want to try. He gives my cock a few licks, before taking my balls into his mouth, one at a time. I have to remind myself to breathe. Then he shoves my legs toward my chest and licks and teases my ass cheeks. Fuck. This may kill me, but what a way to go. 

He releases me, coming to my side, and scoops me in his arms possessively, as if he's going to carry me from the bed. My cock throbs at the possessive touch. He simply squeezes me tightly and releases me again. A quick touch of his lips to mine, and he's mumbling, "On all fours." 

My need beyond the point of desperation, I scramble to obey, still somewhat amazed at my willingness to do this. I assume the position, but Walter doesn't move. He gives me a predatory gaze before he shifts his body behind me. Then he reaches for the condom and lube. If he won't fuck me immediately, he needs to touch me. I shiver, craving the feel of his warm skin. I twist my head, impatiently, and see him rolling the condom onto his thick erection. I gnaw on my lip, gaze focused on the cock I want so desperately in my ass. 

After an eternity, his hands stroke my back and rub my flanks. I feel frantic as teeth tease my ass, then give a not-so-gentle bite. Fuck, yeah. Mark me everywhere. 

I can barely get the single word out of my mouth. "Please..." 

He chuckles, but it morphs into a groan as I shamelessly wiggle my ass at him. I hear a sound that could be the bottle of lube and then the bliss of a cool finger probing my ass. Wanting it desperately, I push back trying to capture the finger inside me, but it squirms away and only caresses my anus. Breathing hard through my open mouth, I do not even try to control the sounds I'm making. 

Walter Skinner is a cruel, cruel man. Only when he is ready, does he slide the finger inside me. Groaning my appreciation, I fuck myself on it, wanting more, but the evil man patiently works me with the lone digit. It feels like I'm about to come on that one damned finger, when he finally deigns to give me a second one. I push my ass hard against him, trying to get him to go deeper. 

He scissors the fingers inside me, opening me up. I shudder, knowing it's not enough to truly prepare me for his cock, and want to feel his erection forcing me open. His free hand gently strokes my thigh, then slides up to squeeze my balls. Suddenly, I feel him brush my prostate. My throat constricts and I can barely breathe as the pleasure rushes through me. The fingers are withdrawn and, for a moment, there's nothing. Then I feel what has to be the head of his cock. 

Come on, Walter, fuck me. 

He braces his hands on my sides and pushes inside me, not stopping until I feel his balls nudge mine. Sounds like sobs rise up in my throat at the sensation of my ass stretching to accept him. He lowers his body onto my back. "You okay?" 

"Oh, yeah." 

Then he begins to fuck me. Slowly and gently, dammit. I want more. I tremble underneath him. He pulls almost all the way out and pushes back in again. It feels so good. If only he'd do it harder, faster. Please, Walter. 

The soft grunting noises he makes tell me how badly he needs this, too. And yet, he increases the pace at a maddeningly slow rate. Just pushing a little bit harder and faster with each thrust. I feel him so impossibly deep inside me. I want to make my voice work--tell him to fuck me harder--but all that comes out are strange feral noises. Noises I never thought I would make. 

His lips seek the back of my neck for a quick bite. Then he laps at it with his tongue. But, after a moment, my neck is forgotten and nothing exists but his cock penetrating me. And my own needy and neglected erection. 

He's starting to put a little force behind his fucking. His breath is laboring at my ear. "Oh, Christ." He emits a long, low moan. "It feels so good... inside you." Yes, yes, yes. I want him to feel good. Blood pulses just at the sound of his voice. 

Then he's giving it to me even harder. I drop my head and groan. "Too much... Alex?" he inquires in a breathy baritone. 

All I can manage to say is, "No... more..." I hope he doesn't misunderstand. 

He doesn't. Mercifully, he pushes harder. The nerves in my ass send screaming sensations to my entire body as his cock repeatedly moves across the sensitive tissues. My whole lower body is going to be bruised, but I don't care. I want to see the evidence of this fuck, not just feel it. He is relentless and it seems like he has been fucking me for a long time. My back, where our bodies are in contact, is drenched in sweat. 

He growls and backs off a little, trying to control himself, but I don't want him to. 

"No..." It's a pathetic whimper of need. Please keep fucking me... harder. 

"Shhh," is his only reply. I want to protest but know it doesn't really matter... he'll have whatever he wants. He shifts his body off my back and the thrusting continues. He's kneeling behind me, hands at my hips, pounding into me. Yes, Walter, fuck me harder. If he weren't holding me, I'd go head first into the headboard from the weight of him slamming into me. It seems as if muscle control is beyond me, but I use what little strength I have to push back, encouraging him to fuck me harder. 

The man knows how to maintain an erection. He keeps taking me, each thrust pulling almost completely out of me. I know my rectum would be screaming if I weren't high on endorphins. "Harder?" he asks breathlessly. 

I whimper and nod, unable to speak. My brain has stopped working, all higher functions unavailable as the world focuses on the cock pounding in my ass. 

When he ups the ante, I'm certain I am about to die from what he's giving me. And I accept it. Each thrust fills me so deeply. And still I want more. 

And then, he pauses for another agonizing moment. A noise like a half sob, half whimper is torn from my throat. 

No, please don't stop. 

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me up so I'm kneeling, and begins to thrust again. The new angle of penetration makes me gasp and tremors rack my body. He holds me against his body and he enters me hard. How can he do that? 

Both of our bodies are trembling. Neither of us will last long. With one arm around my waist, tight enough to hurt, his other hand slides down to my groin. At the first touch of his fingers, I begin the spasm of my climax. I cannot help but completely let go as the orgasm floods through me. Somehow he manages to hold on to my writhing body, his cock still penetrating me, inexorably, as if driven by machinery, not by this shaking and groaning man. 

As I ejaculate the last of my semen, my body becomes limp, held in place only by his strong arm. He groans from deep in his chest and lets loose in his own climax. I can feel the pulsing of his cock in me. And I begin to notice how raw my rectum is under his desperate thrusts, feeling completely possessed by Walter as he finishes his last few thrusts in my aching ass. 

Through some miracle he manages to keep us both upright, leaning backward, so my weight rests against his chest. My head drops on his shoulder and I think to whisper my appreciation, but no real words are coming out. All I can do is gasp for air. 

I feel him go slack under me and he lowers us both gently to the bed. I whimper when his cock slides out of my body. I'm on my side and he spoons in behind me, his breath still fast, his face nuzzled against my neck. 

I know something happened here that changes things, but I cannot think beyond this moment. Or do not want to think beyond it. Beyond his hot body pressed up against mine, and the feel of his breath against my neck. 

Wanting to kiss him, I try to turn my body but barely manage a twitch. My muscles are lax and uncooperative, so I settle for stroking the hand clasping my waist. "Thank you, Walter." My voice is a breathy murmur, and I am shocked to hear it. Even more shocked by what I said. 

He responds with laughter that is pure wickedness. I hear him struggle to get his mouth working, then, "I hope I didn't hurt you." 

It is my turn to be amused. "Who cares. Besides, I hope you'll do it again... just as soon as I can walk normally." I am completely unsuccessful at keeping the laughter out of my voice. 

He chuckles and strokes my chest affectionately. "You love being fucked, don't you, Alex?" 

"Yeah." My voice is low and quiet, and I am again surprised by what I have said. Even though the filter between my brain and my mouth is not working, I am relieved I did not give him the whole truth... 'I love being fucked by you.' I refuse to think about how I will feel about all this tomorrow. 

He's quiet for a long time, but his large hand never stops touching me. After a heavy sigh, he speaks again. "I wish I could fall asleep here with you, Alex. But I should get home." 

God, reality is a bitch. I force my uncooperative muscles into motion and turn enough to capture his mouth. I run my tongue along his lips for a brief moment before pulling away and murmuring, "Well, then, we had better get you on the road." 

"Thank you for tonight, Alex." 

I kiss him lightly and smile. "Anytime." 

I struggle to sit up and my ass screams as it takes the weight of my body. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am going to hurt like hell tomorrow. There's a hiss of breath through my teeth and I push my aching body to the edge of the bed. 

He watches me with a broad smile on his face. The cocky bastard is no doubt proud of his handiwork. But when he stands, I'm pleased to see that he's a little stiff himself. He catches my grin before disappearing into the bathroom. There is still no doubt which of us will be the worse for wear tomorrow. 

I force myself to rise, relieved that Walter is in the bathroom so I can move as awkwardly as I want. Reaching for my clothes, I realize how bad they smell and decide to dress after he leaves. It will be a fun ride back to D.C. smelling like a two-day old corpse. Not wanting to deal with sitting down and having to stand back up, I lean against the wall and wait for him. 

Walter steps out of the bathroom and reaches for his clothes. As he slips on his underwear he glances at me provocatively. "It would be a lot easier to leave if you weren't standing there displaying your assets." 

I smile at him, inordinately pleased by his distraction. "My clothes smell like the crime scene..." 

He nods, pulling up his trousers. "Ah, yes. You have just learned why all seasoned G-men carry a spare set of clothing in the trunk of the car." He tucks in his shirt, slips on his coat and folds his tie into a pocket. "I might have a shirt that would fit you..." 

I wave the offer away. "Uh, 'fit' isn't the right word. 'Hang loosely' perhaps?" Moving away from the wall, I walk over to him, trying to ignore the soreness in my body. "In any case, you mistake the reason for me not dressing." I reach out and rub my hand lightly across his abdomen. "I wouldn't want to smell like a two-day old corpse when I kiss you senseless." I wrap my arm around his waist and pull his mouth to mine. 

He puts his arms around me, too, and the rough fabric of his suit tickles my naked skin. He allows me to take the lead in this kiss, but his hands are wandering over my body as if trying to find some secret hidden on my person. A deep groan fills my mouth. 

"Dammit, Alex." His lips seek mine again for another kiss. "I don't suppose you could stop being so damned sexy for ten minutes." His suited groin rubs up against mine. 

"No, I don't think so, Walter." Or else I might not get you back. I want him with a desperation that makes me uncomfortable. 

He chuckles into my mouth and fingers slide down my crack. I moan and wiggle against him. His touch is light, and I know my ass, especially my anus, is too sore for anything else. So perversely, I really want his touch... firm, possessive. I suck his tongue for a moment before pulling my head back, gasping a little. "God, Walter, I am not the only one who's distracting." 

With a low groan, he pulls away from my body. His eyes fall closed as he catches his breath. When he opens them again, he's calmer and more in control. He retrieves his glasses and personal possessions from the bedside table, slipping the holster over his shoulders with a practiced efficiency. Gesturing to the room key on the dresser, he says, "I've already paid for the room. Just leave the key." 

I nod my head, giving him a half smile. 

He reaches for me again, pressing a light kiss on my temple. I briefly touch his waist, suddenly feeling confused. Then he exits the room without looking back. 

I stare at the door for several long minutes, trying to put thought to what I'm feeling. Something odd about his last touch. It was... affectionate? I think that was it. I cannot remember when someone last touched me in a way that was not sexual or violent. Maybe when I was a child? I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. 

Refusing to have the nauseous scent of my shirt too close to my face, I put on my shoes and pants, bundling up my shirt with my other stuff. In the car, my mind keeps drifting back to Walter's departure, trying to understand what happened today. 

The ride back to D.C. is a jumble of unfocused thoughts. I finally arrive at my apartment, shuck my clothes and awkwardly climb into bed. My ass is throbbing and my entire body aches. Remembering the feel of Walter's cock invading my throat is my last thought before sleep claims me. 

* * *

28 may Falls Church, Virginia  
Saturday, 28 May 1994  
7:35 A.M. 

I wake more sore than I've been in years. I lie still, psyching myself for movement. Walter's question buzzes through my mind. "You love being fucked, don't you, Alex?" My groan fills the room. I cannot believe someone asked me that question and that I immediately, truthfully, responded in the affirmative. And I do love being fucked... by him. 

At least he didn't ask me if I love sucking cock. Possibly more than anything, that little change in my behavior bothers me the most. Oral sex has always been a power thing--a way of controlling or tormenting the men I fuck. And I've never done it from my knees. Where did that impulse come from? 

I so don't want to think about it, but it's impossible to block out the experience. I desperately wanted his cock in my mouth... wanted to make him feel pleasure. So caught up in the way he felt--his erection throbbing in my mouth, smooth, hot skin on my tongue--I didn't even notice I was on my knees. 

Knees. 

Fuck. I don't want to think about this. 

Gingerly, I begin to move. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I convince myself that this cannot ever happen again. My brain shorts out around Skinner and I stop acting like myself. Not good at all. 

No, this isn't going to happen again. 

Slowly rising to my feet, I take the first few steps toward the bathroom. The soreness in my ass makes walking uncomfortable. Like watching a movie, my brain replays yesterday's events. My dick is hard and my breath catches in my throat as I remember the sensation of Walter's cock sliding in and out of my ass, me pushing against him and whimpering, begging for him to fuck me harder. And harder. And harder still. 

Groaning, I brace one hand against the wall, trying to regulate my breathing, but my brain doesn't want to relinquish the images. My muscles start to tremble as I remember him pulling me to my knees as he continued to fuck me. I whimper just thinking about how that angle of penetration felt. 

My other hand is around my dick, pumping furiously. The pleasure from jacking off wars for supremacy with the pain in my body. Memories assault my senses: the feel of his skin, the taste of his cock, him biting my neck and ass. The pleasure wins as I come, hissing Walter's name through my teeth. 

Shit. I slowly reach for a piece of clothing draped over a nearby chair, and wipe up the semen. No, this cannot keep happening. Yeah, right, Krycek. All he'll have to do is crook his finger. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

A shower helps with some of the soreness. While the hot water pounds on my back, I flash on something else from last night. I rimmed him. Never done that before. Never wanted to do that before. And... I liked it. The theory of alien possession is beginning to seem more probable. 

I've often thought it would be nice to occasionally let go when I have sex... to stop thinking and just experience. Now I have it... and I'm not sure I like it. Or maybe, I like it too much. 

I turn off the water before I am completely parboiled and carefully towel off. As I return to the bedroom, I catch sight of myself in the mirrored closet doors that face my bed. I move closer and examine the bruises on my shoulders. What could have caused those? Then I notice a trail of bruises on the front of my hips. Turning, I find fainter ones on my ass and the tops of my thighs, and a particularly vivid bruise near the top of each ass cheek. Just about the size of a thumb. There's also a bite mark on the right side of my butt. I feel my cock starting to get hard again as I begin to match the marks with the activity. Fuck, this is insane. 

The only mark I have to worry about covering up is the bite mark on the back of my neck. It wouldn't be a problem in my suit, but everyone dresses more casually on Saturdays. Hmm... I settle for a black turtleneck and a pair of jeans. 

It takes a lot of concentration and focus--not to mention teeth grinding--to walk semi-normally as I head into work. I'm one of the last to arrive in the war room. Section Chief Baker is talking with several other agents around the end of the table and motions me over. 

I carefully lower myself into a chair, wincing slightly. Baker gives me a speculative look and arches a brow. "You seem a little stiff today, Agent Krycek." 

My mind goes into overdrive trying to come up with an explanation. "Uh, yeah." Everyone is suddenly looking at me. "I, umm, couldn't really sleep last night so I went to the gym... overdid it a little." Baker gives an understanding nod, and the agent seated next to me pats me sympathetically on the shoulder. 

Baker hands me a file. "The profile on the latest victim. We got the ID on the guy at 2:00 A.M. Jason Zimmerman, HUD undersecretary." Oh, Jesus. The pressure on this case is going to rapidly become unbearable. As long as we were dealing with waitresses, construction workers and engineers, the political hierarchy was content to ignore us. But now... 

Fidgeting with his moustache, Baker looks both tired and frustrated. "Review it, then you and Agent Mallory look for any commonality between the victims." I reach for the folder, sighing inwardly. We haven't found any similarity between the other five victims to date. And our HUD undersecretary seems to be another oddity in the victim mix. 

A couple of hours later, I'm reading one section of the victim's profile for the tenth time. Something is niggling at the back of my mind but I cannot put a finger on it. 

"Hey, Krycek." I glance up at Mallory. "You know where the file on the fourth vic is?" 

Unfortunately, it's too far away to easily reach. "Yeah, just a sec." Trying to move as normally as possible, I get up, snag the file and hand it to Mallory. I know my movements are stiff. As I lower myself back into my chair, I glance up and see Skinner standing in the doorway. He's wearing khaki pants and a tight, hunter green Henley. I feel a slight flush warm my face when I realize he's probably seen my awkward movements. 

His face gives away nothing, but his eyes seem to darken slightly. Those eyes pass over me all too quickly and land on Baker. He continues into the room, conferring with Baker and the BSU unit manager. 

He glares at the BSU guy. "You have anything useful, Johanssen?" 

The man takes a step backward and mutters something unintelligible. 

I catch some of Skinner's baritone. "... or not he knows the victims?" 

Johanssen's face is grim as he replies. He speaks for a long time, but whatever he's saying is not making Skinner happy. Finally, the unit manager just shrugs and walks out of the room. 

Skinner and Baker go into a quiet huddle. The only thing I can overhear is, "... you'll have to go back and do the first one..." 

After about ten minutes, Skinner breaks away and crosses the room to Gough. "Nice job getting the van report, Agent Gough." 

"It's probably unrelated, sir." 

"I know, but we can't afford to overlook anything. Another agent would've missed it. I appreciate your thoroughness." 

Gough nods. 

Skinner turns and leaves the room. His ass looks damned nice in those pants. I could too easily get wrapped up in thinking about him instead of working. I struggle to shake it off, and return to reading my reports. I'm back to re-reading the same paragraph over and over but, this time, it's because I keep thinking about the way the Henley showed his chest definition. God, this is pathetic. 

After an hour, I'm still obsessing on the same paragraph, wondering why it's bothering me that the vic recently had a wart removed, when Baker calls my name and gestures me over. 

The small, wiry man shoves some papers in a folder and hands it to me. He's obviously distracted, continuing to look at the forensic report in front of him while running a hand through his hair. "Krycek, can you take those to A.D. Skinner?" 

As the junior agent on the team, it's a given that I will be given all the menial tasks and, in this case, I do not mind at all. Pausing by the door, I jot something on a piece of paper and stick it in my pocket. 

The door to Skinner's office is half open. I knock lightly, while pushing the door open. "Sir?" 

His face is tight. "Agent?" 

I slowly cross to his desk, trying to keep any evidence of soreness out of my gait. "Sir, Section Chief Baker requested that you receive these." I hand him the folder, making sure to keep my expression neutral. 

This time, when he looks at me, there's warmth in those brown eyes. "Thank you." He opens the folder and briefly assesses the contents, before dropping the file on his desk. 

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the folded piece of paper and hand it to him. He takes it from me, nods, extracts his wallet from his pocket and inserts the slip. 

"Good afternoon, sir." I turn and leave the room. 

* * *

Alex Krycek. What a beautiful man he is. What a temptation in my office on a Saturday morning. 

I can't get the images out of my head. Pictures from last night. Green eyes gazing up at me, my cock in his mouth. Him jerking off for me. The astonished look on his face when I tasted his semen from his fingers. The husky, sensuous sound of his voice: 'I had a hard-on for you...' 

This affair with my agent is a very, very bad idea. Nevertheless, last night was more fun than I've had in ten years. The poor boy can barely walk, but neither of us has any regrets. We both wanted it hard. It's been so long since I could really let go like that. Never could with a woman... rarely with a man, but he's tough enough to take it. 

At least he's smart enough to be discreet. 

Next time, I'll take him to a decent hotel. The boy deserves better than the damned Valley Forge Inn. Maybe the Embassy Suites? 

Fuck, even at the Valley Forge it was a night to remember. 

What if Sharon finds out? Well, that's simple. I'll feel like a complete bastard... but I already do. 

I open my wallet again and retrieve the paper. Just a phone number. Probably his home number. I could have pulled it from his personnel file, but I appreciate that I don't have to. 

No question I'm going to call. 

The Rose Killer beckons. Now with the HUD victim, I can expect every person in the chain of command between me and the President to call for daily updates. Just because Zimmerman was a HUD undersecretary doesn't mean his murderer left us any useful clues. The minor VIP's death is just as mysterious as the other five. 

After reviewing the forensic report, I phone the Director with a non-update on the case. There's no new information, but I know he expects the call. I make a couple more pro-active calls, encouraging various officials to not call me. 

I don't really want to be at work at all, but I don't want to go home either. 

An hour later, I exit to the parking garage. I sit in the driver's seat, scanning my calendar, looking for opportunities to make time for my sexy new lover. My face feels funny and I realize that I'm smiling. 

End Part 1 

* * *

Exigency: Yield  
Part 2 

Falls Church, Virginia  
Sunday, 29 May 1994  
4:30 P.M. 

Late afternoon, there's a tap on my apartment door. I open it to find Nick. With all the events of the weekend, I had forgotten I agreed to see him today. 

I stand back so he can enter. As soon as the door is closed, he wraps himself around me and presses a kiss against my lips. I'm still for a moment, then push him away. 

He watches me, then sighs. "So, this is it, huh?" 

I find myself nodding my head, even though this is not what I had planned. 

"Well, when you get tired of him, call me." 

I can't stop the brief flash of surprise from showing on my face. I know I haven't given him any clues about Walter. 

"Oh, come on, Alex. If it was just my more 'irksome' habits, you'd have dumped me after the first night," he grins, "baby." 

I hear my teeth grinding. 

Nick begins to laugh. "You're so cute when you're upset, baby." 

Fortunately, he lets himself out before I'm tempted to strangle him. 

* * *

Washington D.C.  
Monday, 30 May 1994  
8:42 P.M. 

My workday was complete chaos. 

Mulder's in trouble again. Missing in action. Smith is all over it. I'd say he's almost panicking. Hard not to enjoy it. 

Seeking relief from the madness, I escape to the gym. 

Sitting in my car in the parking lot, I take a few deep breaths and put the fiasco out of my head. There's something I want to do before I work out. Retrieving my cell phone, I dial the number. 

"Yeah." 

"It's Walt." 

There's a pause. "Hi." His voice is lower and huskier. "I don't suppose the gods are being kind to me and you're in the neighborhood?" 

My turn to pause... hard not to be affected by Alex in full seduction mode. My workout suddenly seems like a really bad idea. "I don't know where you live, Alex, so I can't say, but..." It's only then that I realize my cock is hard. It wasn't when I dialed. "... actually I was calling about Wednesday. Are you busy?" 

He chuckles. "No, I'm not busy. Do you want to come here? Or meet somewhere?" 

"I was thinking of getting a room... I mean, a decent one." I hope I don't sound as awkward as I feel. "Um, I'd be happy to come to your place, if that's comfortable for you. What do you prefer?" 

"Oh, I feel certain I'll be uncomfortable either way... at least eventually." His voice has become downright sultry. 

Oh, lord. What am I going to do with this boy? 

"You're welcome to come to my apartment if you like." 

"All right. Uncomfortable at your place, then. Where do you live?" 

"Falls Church. Twelfth and Center. Greenway Apartments, Unit 3. I'm in the last building, upstairs. Umm... did you have a time in mind?" 

"7:30?" 

"Yeah. I'll probably grab some Thai or Indian on the way home-" 

"Alex, I'd like to bring dinner." 

After a brief pause, he replies, "Okay." 

"Let's make it 8:00 then." 

"Sure." 

"Twelfth and Center, unit 3?" 

"Mm hm." 

"I'll see you then." 

"Definitely." 

"Okay, bye." 

"Goodnight, Walter." 

I no longer want to go to the gym. My cock is hard and Alex won't be waiting in the locker room. Going home to jerk off seems like the best I can do, but Sharon will be home. Not that I can't masturbate with her in the house, but... I don't want to. 

I retrieve my gym bag from the trunk and go inside. 

* * *

Washington, D.C.  
Wednesday, 1 June 1994  
6:51 P.M. 

The Director's going to kick my ass. I booted his little friend out of my office. My official reason: Smith put an illegal wiretap on Agent Mulder's phone. But I really lost it when he lit into Mulder. That's my job, you son of a bitch. 

I can't function with the man hovering over me like a vulture. 

Mulder's pissed at me, too. For sending him back to his wiretap jerk-off assignment. If he'd just be a good boy for a few weeks, I could get the Director, and maybe even Smith, off my back. Then I could pass him some unusual cases. We won't call them X-Files. 

I've been antsy all day. For another reason entirely. 

I must have checked my watch nine times between 5:30 and 6:30. My administrative assistant, Kimberly, recommended a good place for Thai takeout and even scrounged up a menu. I'm acting like a kid... nervous about my date. When I stop to think about it, it makes me laugh. 

I stop at 7-11 for beverages. I haven't the slightest idea what Alex likes to drink. I don't believe either of us has ever consumed a beverage in each other's presence. Maybe coffee at work? I buy a six-pack of imported beer, a six-pack of Coke and a large bottle of Evian. 

At Gourmet Thai, I pick up my call-in order. Enough food to feed eight people. I don't know what he likes to eat either, so I suppose I overcompensated. I can barely carry it all to his apartment. 

I ring the bell with my elbow. 

Alex answers the door wearing faded blue jeans, snug black T-shirt and no shoes. His hair is damp and careless. His eyes widen a little as he takes in the load of stuff in my arms. He reaches out and relieves me of half the burden before stepping back so I can enter. "If you work up enough of an appetite to eat all this, well, hell... I may not be able to walk for a week." His tone is mischievous. 

I smile at his lame joke. The boy comes right to the point, doesn't he? 

After I step inside, he nudges the door closed with his foot. 

The apartment is neat and very clean. We pass through the living room to a dining area. The kitchen is a little odd... looks... unused. Mail on the stove. Suits in dry cleaning bags draped across the counter. 

We plant the bags on the dining table and I start to remove the drinks. I'm about to apologize for not knowing what he likes when I suddenly remember why I'm there. Two steps and I'm next to him. Extracting the cartons of Thai food from his hands, I place them on the table. Then I reach around his waist and pull him into my arms for a kiss. 

His mouth immediately opens under mine, allowing my tongue entrance, as his arms circle my shoulders. His tongue lightly teases the underside of mine. A faint moan issues from his throat and his body rubs against me, his already present erection presses against my hip. My suit pants are feeling a bit tight, too. 

It would be so fucking easy to forget about dinner. I slip a hand down his back and onto his ass. We are both rational adults, not sex addicts. I can feel his heart throbbing inside his chest. Surely we can have dinner like civilized human beings before we fuck. He smells so good... that good, clean Alex scent. 

He rubs his ass into my hand as he breaks his mouth away and begins kissing along my jaw and down my neck. His voice is a murmur, a vibration against my skin. "Thai is great cold. And if that doesn't appeal, there is a microwave." He begins pushing my suit coat off my shoulders as his tongue traces the outline of my ear before sucking the earlobe into his mouth. Releasing the lobe, he whispers, "I feel like I've had a constant erection for the past five days... I need you to fuck me, Walt... I can't wait." 

My good intentions are forgotten in the rush to get my clothes off. During the process, my legs hobbled by my own pants, I nearly fall on my ass. We're both laughing as we finally manage to yank off my briefs. Alex's arms are around me and we stagger to the living room while simultaneously gnawing on each other's lips. 

His hands knead my ass and I find the back of my legs up against the sofa. Pulling back a bit, he tugs his T-shirt over his head and ducks around me to sprawl on the couch. Eyes radiating heat, he moves his hand to the fly of his jeans and begins popping the buttons open. His cock strains to escape the confines of his jeans as he finishes working his fly. Alex didn't opt for underwear. 

Undulating his body, he slides his hands into his jeans, lifts his hips, and pushes the denim down to his knees. There's a trail of fading bruises along the front of each hip. 

When I realize what they are, my first reaction is a rush of pleasure. His body bears marks from my hands. It's an animal reaction... as if to say to other prospective lovers that I was here first. Only after I catch myself smiling at him over the bruises do I stop to wonder if I was too rough with him. But something in the proud jut of his hips tells me he's as pleased as I am about the visible reminders of our first real night together. 

Our eyes meet, a silent exchange of emotion, as his lips quirk into a hint of a smile. 

I help him disentangle his pants from his legs. Once they are discarded, I reach for his cock, stroking him roughly a couple of times. 

He moans as his head arches back and his hips rock up toward my hand. "Fuck, Walter." His voice is gravelly and his eyes are becoming a little glazed. He reaches for my arm, tugging me down onto the sofa. 

His cock is very hard. More than ready. I sit next to him and whisper, "Are you sure your ass is up for this? We don't have to-" 

The look on his face stops me. He looks appalled and dazed at the same time, just nodding his head. His hand grazes across my stomach before gliding up my chest. 

I chuckle briefly, before continuing, "Condom? Lube?" 

He reaches for a small door in the coffee table. I squat and retrieve the needed supplies. Standing over him again, I consider positions. The end of the sofa is wide and looks comfortable. I hold out a hand to him. His fingers wrap around mine and he rises. With a hand around his waist, I guide him to the end of the sofa. 

I give him a quick kiss, which is admittedly rather lacking in finesse, but we are both too eager to get to the main event. He practically throws himself over the end of the sofa, opening his legs provocatively. 

My eyes fall to a round bruise on his ass cheek. I bit him there the last time I had his ass. There's also a neat thumb mark on each of his hips. Perhaps I should be ashamed of the smile on my face, but I am not. 

My hands stroke his back, encouraging him to relax, but we're both way too wound up. The more I touch him, the more labored his breathing becomes and the more he writhes against the arm of the sofa. 

I put the condom on quickly and anoint my fingers with lube. I don't bother to warm it, just easing two fingers to his anus and rubbing. He groans deeply as the first slides inside him. Impatient, I enter him with the second finger almost immediately. Gasping, he presses back as if trying to capture the fingers and make them go deeper. I feel a faint trembling begin in his legs. 

I am consumed with the raw need to put my cock inside his body. He needs it, too. My fingers fuck him as deeply as possible. Eager to rush him along, I carefully ease a third finger into him. My other hand is stroking up his lower back onto his spine, in a pointless calming gesture. There's a hiss of breath and his body frantically moves, urging my fingers to go further. 

My thighs are pressed against the back of his, my hips already thrusting, eagerly anticipating the fuck. Alex looks back at me over his shoulder, breathing hard. His voice is rough and uneven. "I need your cock in my ass, Walter. Fuck me." He stretches his legs a little further apart and shoves his ass back against me. 

He won't have to ask again. I withdraw my fingers quickly, making sure each one brushes across his prostate. He gasps, and shudders pass over his shoulders. 

Then, placing the tip of my cock at his asshole, I push into him. We both groan as I immediately fill him. Usually, I pride myself on my endurance, but there's no hope of that tonight. I begin to thrust into him, pushing hard, but not brutally like the last time. 

Apparently unsatisfied with my moderation, Alex begins to shove his ass back onto my cock with his own power. The slap of our two bodies as we meet in the middle is unbearably intense. I reach hastily around his body and locate his cock, which I begin jerking rapidly. My own thrusts increase in speed, and Alex follows my lead, as we both thrust hard and fast. As my head goes fuzzy with pleasure, and I'm vaguely aware of the sound of male grunting. 

A muffled yell reaches my ears as his entire body tenses and then spasms. His ass repeatedly clenches almost painfully around my cock as the orgasm racks his body. I join him almost instantly. My cock explodes and I cry out my own release. After a final thrust, I collapse on top of him. 

As soon as I can think again, I hold the condom and withdraw. Not seeing a trashcan, I leave it on the coffee table. On the sofa, I arrange our bodies until I'm lying on my back with him on top of me, head lying listlessly against mine. 

I'm a little disappointed in myself. I was determined to treat him like a human being tonight, not a fuck toy. But the man comes on to me like a match to gasoline. Perhaps our only chance to get to know each other will be in between orgasms. It's not the most unpleasant problem to have. 

It feels so damned good just being close like this. Nice. Uncomplicated. I thought I'd outgrown the need for simple affection, but I guess not. 

Alex's breathing evens out and he begins to move subtly. His hand trails up the side of my body and his lips caress my jaw. "God, Walter, this is going to drive me insane... you're so fucking sexy." His teeth nip at my earlobe, followed by the caress of his tongue. 

My hand strokes the curve of his spine. I turn my head to find his mouth and kiss him gently. "You're the sexy one, Alex." I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him tightly. 

There's a hint of laughter in his voice. "Walter, I think my I.Q. has started to drop because of the lack of blood flow to my brain--it's always in my dick. I'm not doing it to myself... call it whatever you like, but it's definitely you." His tongue has begun to trace patterns on my neck while his hands engage in a lazy, meandering caress of my body. 

I want it to be me... that makes him so hot and frantic. "We might both be just a tad sex obsessed." I slide the fingers of one hand up his back and along his neck. Then I start exploring his hair. It's soft and silky. I guess I miss hair a little. I always enjoy touching it. 

"Umm... yeah." His voice has become a breathy murmur. The simple touch on Alex's head has the strangest effect. He appears to become boneless. His hands still and he seems to melt. He makes a few, small appreciative sounds but is apparently robbed of the ability to move or speak. 

"You like that, Alex." Delighted by its effect on him, I up the ante. Using two hands, I give his scalp a vigorous massage. "What else do you like?" 

He moans, turning his head slightly. He struggles with speech for several moments, finally giving up with a throaty groan that vibrates against my chest. After another moment, he takes a deep breath and manages to force some words out of his throat. "You've found my big weakness, Walter. Of course, there's you..." He pauses, taking a few breaths. "It appears that I like everything you do to me." 

Alex is not one for clear and specific answers to questions, but I am directly responsible for his current state of mindlessness. I amuse myself with the head rub for a little while longer, enjoying his languid movements. Then I release his head and nudge him to my side, so I can sit up. He rises briefly so I can get my legs on the floor, then sits again, leaning against me. 

Time to get to know him. I slip an arm around his waist. "Where'd you go to college?" 

He turns his head to look at me, a slightly surprised expression on his face. "Umm... Rice University." His hand begins to idly stroke my thigh. 

"Favorite class?" 

"I took two classes in poetry. I think those were my favorites." He sounds a little hesitant. 

"Poetry, huh? I don't have a lot of patience for poetry. I usually feel the poet should get to the point." My hand pats his belly. "But I've read some that were beautiful and others that made me laugh." 

"Hmm... You know, I am not sure the content is what I like the most. I studied language... hours and hours of going over the technical nuances and grammatical differences. It's easy to forget the purpose. I liked poetry because of how the poet used words, not so much what they were saying." 

"I guess I'm just a plain speaker and feel a little outclassed by poetry." 

He chuckles a little. "I just like to read it. I don't think I have it in me to be verbose enough to, uh... wax poetic." 

My hand finds his on my thigh, just stroking his fingers with one of mine. "What was your hardest subject in college?" 

"Um, Cantonese. I did fine with all the other languages, but just couldn't seem to grasp that one. You?" 

I raise an eyebrow at that. "Cantonese? Lord." I squeeze his hand. "Organic Chemistry nearly killed me." 

He chuckles. "I'm relieved I never had to take it." 

Continuing in the vein of getting to know Alex, I inquire, "What's your middle name?" 

He shakes his head. "Do not have one." 

"Do you have brothers or sisters?" 

There's a pause. "No." His voice went flat... not a happy topic, perhaps? 

"And what's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" Something a little lighter. 

Another pause and then he starts to laugh. "I've become partial to Ben  & Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch." 

I nod my head, as if that tells me everything I need to know about him. I still find myself wondering who this man is but, on the other hand, we seem quite connected... On a physical level, I suppose. 

I allow the silence to remain. Not much of a talker, is he? It seems clear he'd much rather fuck. 

As the thought passes through my brain, Alex turns toward me, draping his legs over mine and leaning his head against the back of the couch. His hand absently strokes my chest and he looks thoughtful. "What about you, Walter? What do you like?" 

Just the question makes me feel turned on again. "I like the way you offer yourself to me. I like it when you get that frenzied look of... desperation. You seem to fight it, but you always lose." 

He looks startled and opens his mouth as if to say something, but then snaps it shut. His eyes flick away and there's suddenly a faint flush on his cheeks. 

I hesitate, not wanting to embarrass him further, but then say it anyway. "I suppose everyone tells you this, but I love your eyes. They're the most beautiful, clear green. I feel drawn to you by those eyes." I kiss the side of his face. 

Alex looks surprised and faintly uncomfortable. "No... have not heard that before. But, umm, thank you." He brushes his hair away from his forehead. Sighing, he returns his hand to my chest, idly running his fingers through the hair and brushing my nipples. "This is weird." 

"What?" 

"This. Talking. Conversation, I guess. I just realized how rarely I really talk to someone." His mouth curves in a half smile. "And I'm terrible at it." Lips press against my shoulder and he murmurs, almost to himself, "I can speak six languages but struggle with talking." He gives a mirthless laugh and his eyes look a little unfocused. 

There's something odd and... even sad about what he's said. I'm not the greatest talker myself... not without an agenda. But it seems strange for this articulate young man to tell me he doesn't know how to talk. "I would like to get to know you, Alex." I slip a hand behind his neck and pull him into a kiss. 

His tongue slips out to caress my lower lip before he pulls back. "Okay. But how about over dinner? I'm starving." After swinging his legs to the floor, he looks back at me, grinning. "I have to be sure I have enough energy for that after-dinner poetry reading." 

I put a hand on his shoulder. "That wasn't what I had in mind for after dinner... but I am in favor of energy restoration." I wrap an arm around his waist, bringing his slender body upright with me. 

Alex's hand wanders to my ass, caressing briefly. "Well, if you insist." 

I pull on my shorts and slacks. Alex doesn't appear to notice that he's naked. 

In the dining room, the food is lukewarm. Alex moves into the kitchen and starts opening cabinets. He looks perplexed, chewing his lip before there's a flash of enlightenment on his face. "Oh, yeah." Leaning down, he opens a cabinet next to the stove and pulls out two plates. 

Fortunately, the forks are easier to find. I serve myself a variety of dishes before Alex grabs my plate, moving back to the microwave. He pushes several buttons and makes a disgusted sound. "If you want warm food, you might want to take over... I think I just reset the clock." 

The chagrined look on his face is priceless... like a little boy who can't reach the light switch. I smile at his ineptitude. A couple of tries and I manage to tame the microwave. After removing my plate, I insert his and give it the same treatment. 

Taking his plate, he mumbles as we sit at the table. "So much for the alien theory." 

"What?" 

"I had this theory that there was an invisible alien living in the kitchen who prevented me from being able to find anything or operate appliances. So much for that." 

As I take a seat at the table, I catch myself gaping. "Like an extraterrestrial poltergeist?" 

He starts laughing. "No. Just a malevolent creature sent here by the Indian take-out place around the corner. I guess it's just the seven digit number thing." 

I take a bite of the pad Thai and chew, carefully considering his words. "Oh... The seven digit number thing?" 

Alex pauses while he finishes chewing a bite of noodles. "Yeah. I cannot remember seven digit numbers, only ten. So, I always have to remember phone numbers with their area code. It's just a mental block... like the kitchen thing. I can operate complex surveillance equipment but cannot turn on the microwave. The alien cover story is a lot more entertaining than admitting I could not operate a hat if it was located in the kitchen." 

I chuckle through a bite of egg roll. "Have you met Agent Mulder? He'd want to meet your alien. Perhaps he could negotiate a d,tente that would allow you to use your appliances." 

"Heard of him, never met him. I don't think my kitchen warrants an X-File." He digs into a piece of chicken. 

Thinking of Mulder's last few 302s, I can't help but wonder. "So I guess this means you don't cook?" 

He nearly chokes on a bite of chicken and reaches for the big bottle of water. After a few seconds, he finally replies, "I think the appliances have it in their union contract that I will not actually attempt anything cooking related." He waves his fork for emphasis. "I suppose you can cook?" 

"I am competent in the kitchen. So if," I didn't want to talk about Sharon, "if, uh, my wife is gone, I can feed myself. Eggs, spaghetti, steak. Nothing extravagant." I close my eyes briefly, regretting that Alex is, in a way, another victim of my marriage and infidelity. 

Alex watches me for a few seconds, then resumes eating. We finish the meal in silence. I notice that he carefully avoids any vegetable dishes. After taking one last bite of noodles, Alex takes his plate to the kitchen, returning to stand behind my chair. His hands come over my shoulders and travel down my chest as his lips caress the back of my neck. His voice is a murmur near my ear. "So, for dessert, we have peanut butter or," his hand gestures to the table, then returns to rub across my nipple, "beer." 

You're dessert, boy. I think it, but I don't say it. He knows. 

I lightly stroke his hand and forearm. When he touches me, it's not the same as anyone else touching me. It's filled with the promise of pleasure, sex and something else I can't name. With the intensity of a brand new sexual experience... I feel like I have the libido of a twenty year old around Alex. Inspired by Alex. 

It's already clear that I'll get it up again. And soon. I growl as his hand slides down my abdomen. I allow my head to fall back and rest against his chest. 

Alex's hand moves to the back of my neck, supporting my head as he leans forward, his mouth finding the front of my throat. His lips and tongue mark a path to my ear, then across the side of my face. The other hand lightly brushes my cock a few times and then moves up to stroke my nipple. His lips come to rest on the top of my bald head as his hand stills. He straightens up suddenly. "I have an idea." He releases me and steps away. 

"Huh?" 

I notice he has the beginnings of an erection. He rummages around in a kitchen drawer for a second and triumphantly produces... a package of crackers? Returning to me, he opens it and offers me a saltine. 

"What's this?" 

He grins at me. "Dessert. Come on, Walter, just one cracker." 

I give him a dubious glance, but reluctantly take the cracker. Not expecting much to begin with, I'm not at all surprised that it's rather stale. After I eat it, he grabs a bottle of water and hands it to me. I toast him with the large bottle and take a swig, passing it on to him, so he can wash down 'dessert.' 

What was the point of this bizarre ritual? I have no idea. "Alex?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Next time I'll bring dessert. Okay?" 

"So skeptical. Come join me on the sofa?" 

I rise and take advantage of the opportunity to touch his ass. Just allowing my fingers to wander over the smooth, pleasingly warm contours. As soon as I pause, he leads the way back to the living room. I start to take a seat, but he tugs at my arm so I remain standing. Both of his hands move to my fly. He unzips it and drops to his knees to lower the pants and my shorts, holding them for me to step out. 

He tosses my clothes on a chair. I wait silently... waiting to see what he's up to. Gesturing to the couch, he murmurs, "Have a seat. I will be right back." 

I sit back on the sofa and watch him disappear down the hallway. He returns a few seconds later, one hand behind his back. Coming to stand in front of me, he looks contemplative for a moment. He finally shrugs and straddles my legs, sitting back on my thighs. "Okay, close your eyes for a sec." 

I reach my hand out and stroke his chest. Giving him a half smile, I close my eyes. 

There are a few subtle noises I can't identify, then his hands are at my chest, traveling along my ribs and brushing across my nipples. I enjoy the touch but I miss the sight of him. Looking at Alex is such an incredible experience. My fingers move upward to the side of his face. It's almost smooth; he must have shaved tonight. 

Alex ceases his lazy caress of my chest, moving one hand to my back, the other to my face. His fingers nudge my lips apart, and I swipe one with my tongue. Body twitching, he coaxes my lips a little further apart. He shifts and his lips settle on mine. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, covered in something warm and smooth. It tastes like coffee... no, it's chocolate. Really good chocolate. Or maybe, mediocre chocolate with the taste of Alex. It's sensual and smooth, and my tongue slides over his, seeking more of the flavor. Once he is licked clean, I enter his mouth looking for more. 

A moan rises up in his throat as I gather the chocolate from his mouth. Without speaking, and with my eyes closed, the taste of the chocolate and the feel of his body are more vivid. I wrap my hands around his hips and pull him closer. He's a big man, but his waist feels small in my hands. His erection presses into my belly and he writhes against my thighs. 

Alex pulls his mouth away, gasping. "So I guess you liked it?" 

"Kissing you is incredible, but the chocolate was nice, too." I kiss his collarbones, one at a time. "Please explain the saltines?" 

He chuckles. "To cleanse the palate. Chocolate tastes all wrong after Thai." 

I feel the broad smile on my face. "May I open my eyes now?" 

"Mm hmm." 

Alex looks quite sexy on my lap, his eyes heavy lidded and his face flushed. I wonder if he knows how beautiful he looks. 

I kiss around the base of his neck. "Do you have a full-length mirror?" 

"Uh, yes." 

"In the bedroom?" 

"Yeah. The closet doors are mirrored." 

I lightly slap the side of his leg. "Take another bite of that chocolate, then take me there." 

Alex reaches for a black and red paper-wrapped bar and breaks off a chunk. He slips it into his mouth, then crawls off my lap. 

* * *

Standing next to the couch, I watch Walter rise to his feet. He really is incredibly sexy. I have the urge to tell him but I cannot say anything because of the chocolate slowly melting on my tongue. I am not accustomed to talking to my sex partners about their bodies... or my own. Continuing to squelch a niggling sense of unease, I turn toward the hall and reach back for his hand, guiding him away from the living room. 

This whole evening feels surreal. But, despite little warning bells going off in the back of my brain, I am enjoying myself. More than I've enjoyed myself in years... maybe ever. I don't want to think about the inherent pitfalls in this situation. At least not tonight. 

Standing just inside the room, I gesture to the floor-to-ceiling mirrored closet doors facing my bed. Walter is still behind me and I wonder what he has planned. I wait for the inevitable feeling of annoyance at having someone in my personal space but it does not come. I visualize Walter sprawled on my bed and my cock twitches... I want him here. How peculiar. Not going to think about it. 

My hand, still behind my back, is clasped in his. The Valrhona has now become slippery on my tongue. I wonder why I do everything he asks. 

Definitely not going to think about it. 

Walter reaches for me, turning my body and pulling me into his embrace. Then, with a hand at the back of my neck, he draws me forward until our lips meet. This time he shares the chocolate, focusing on the kiss. The rich and subtle taste of the chocolate flavors our dueling tongues. His other hand presses my lower back. My cock is trapped between us, enjoying the minor friction created by the slight movements of our bodies. 

I want to put my mouth all over him, but am unwilling to relinquish the sensation of his tongue. My hands roam along his back, caressing his ass, as I suck on his tongue, still tasting the bittersweet chocolate. I step backward, further into the room, keeping him pressed to me. 

We kiss until I can only taste a hint of the chocolate. Then his kisses trail up the side of my face. He rubs his cheek against mine, and I feel the brush of his evening beard. 

With a sigh, he releases my body. His cock is fully hard now. I had always heard that older men couldn't get it up again very quickly. So much for that theory. He takes my hand and walks me toward the mirror. 

"Face the mirror," he says softly. 

I turn. Walter stands behind me, close enough for his cock to tease my ass. I follow the path of his gaze, our eyes meeting in the mirror. A moment of heat between us, then his glance shifts downward. 

I have certainly seen my body in this mirror before--the damn thing faces my bed--and I have to wonder why we're looking at me. Yes, that's my chest, my abdomen, my cock. Yes, I'm turned on, but I don't need a mirror to tell me that. 

My gaze flicks to Walter's face. Much more interesting. I cast my eyes along the outline of his body behind mine. On a conscious level, I know that Walter is bigger than I am, but it suddenly sinks home. And I suddenly feel vulnerable. Physically vulnerable. I realize I've never had sex with someone larger than myself. A protective instinct, I guess. So, where is that instinct now? 

My body twitches, torn between the desire to throw myself at him and the desire to leave. What are we doing? I glance up at Walter's reflection and see that he has been watching me. And I suddenly feel naked. For the first time, I realize there is a difference between naked and unclothed. 

Walter's gaze moves to my mouth, and I'm painfully aware that I've had my lower lip clamped in my teeth. I release it, running my tongue over it briefly. I never used to have a problem with maiming my own lips. A phenomenon specific to Walter's presence. 

He steps closer, his body pressing fully against mine, one arm wrapped around my waist. He gently adjusts his cock, so it's nestled between my ass cheeks. Okay, decision made. I am not going to leave this room until he's done with me. His cock feels so good there. I can't help but wiggle a little. I see my expression change. My eyelids droop and my mouth relaxes. Strange, looking at myself like this. There's a sensual smile on his face; he likes it, too. 

The hand that isn't holding me reaches up and strokes my hair. He rubs my scalp vigorously. Oh shit, Walter, you should not do that when I'm standing up. Too bad I'm suddenly too mindless to vocalize the warning. My eyes slide shut as I lean heavily against him and my head falls back onto his shoulder. I struggle to prevent my knees from collapsing. His strong arm tightens around me, keeping me anchored against him. There's a good reason why I keep sex partners away from my head. A moan vibrates from my chest. 

My dim brain registers his low chuckle. He releases my hair and I manage to open my eyes. His index finger strokes each of my cheeks very gently. I find myself subtly moving into each touch. The intensity of his stare is a little disconcerting. He's very turned on by just looking at me. 

He rubs each shoulder briefly, then his hand brushes across my chest. It would be too easy to close my eyes and lose myself in his touch but I want to watch him. His gaze flicks between my face and my body. 

When he speaks, it's so low I can barely hear it. "So beautiful." 

Beautiful? I know I'm attractive but I have never heard myself referred to as beautiful. It gives me a warm feeling, and I watch my face flush as the sensation sweeps over me. 

He pinches one nipple. Then the other. Returning to the first, he pinches harder. I groan and arch into his touch. Fuck, that feels good. Realizing I have hands doing nothing of interest, I reach back and grab his hips, pulling him tight against me. 

"Harder?" Walter's voice is so low and sexy. 

"Yeah." 

His fingertips bite into my nipple. Gasping, I dig my fingers into the cheeks of his ass. What is he seeing? I look at myself in the mirror, seeing my body writhe in his arms. I wasn't aware of moving that much. My chest is flushed. I wonder if it's always like that when I'm turned on. I focus on my chest for a second, seeing a faint sheen of sweat and the muscles clenching as I press into the bite of his fingers. 

My hips press back against his crotch, trying to keep his cock between the cheeks of my ass. I rotate my pelvis, reveling in the feel of his hard body. I'm briefly fascinated by the sight of my abdominal muscles working as I grind against him. I force my fingers to relax and slide my hands to the top of his thighs, enjoying the feel of the hair against my palms. 

I realize I'm completely out of control. I wonder if he likes that... seeing me so helpless against his touch. I'm not sure I'd like it if that very touch wasn't distracting me so effectively. 

Walter's fingers move to the other nipple. Either he's squeezing harder or that nipple is more sensitive. I hiss between my teeth. It hurts, but I push against him--my body again asking him for more. 

Eyes locked on mine through the mirror, his pinch gradually grows harder, backing off the instant I start to shake. His finger appears at my lips. I suck it into my mouth, but he removes it and runs the damp finger over my abused nipple. 

"Okay?" 

"Uh-huh." 

His hand leaves my chest and finds my flank. He strokes my skin gently, his face contemplative. Then his fingers tease my belly, brushing against the border of my pubic hair. 

I desperately want him to touch my cock. His gaze is focused on his hand, caressing near my groin. I glance at my own face and almost don't recognize myself. Accustomed to seeing an impassive mask when I look in the mirror, I'm surprised to see my face so open and expressive. I almost don't recognize the man whose face clearly shows passion and, oh lord, desperation. Is that what he saw before? 

Looking back at Walter, I find him watching my face. I moan and squirm, pressing my hips forward, seeking his hand. I am desperate. Desperate for his touch. He continues the maddening caress right above my crotch, just watching me. Fuck. 

"Walter, please..." Oh god, I'm begging now. My lower lip is again caught in the vice-like grip of my teeth. The desperation is more evident on my face. I know he sees it. His eyes seem to burn hotter, appearing almost black. He's enjoying what he's doing to me. And he will make me wait. 

Bypassing my needy cock, his fingers reach underneath and enclose my balls. He squeezes gently. My eyes close briefly, relishing the sensation spreading outward from my groin. Then his strong fingers massage my balls, separating them briefly. I whimper as the pleasure mounts and notice that his breathing has become rapid. But I've forgotten to breathe at all. 

Releasing my balls, his fingers form a circle around the base of my cock. I groan and my hips jerk against his hand, trying to get him to move it on my cock. Pain breaks through the pleasure and frustration, and I release my tortured lip. Managing to focus for a second, I watch with fascination as a small amount of blood pools on my lip, then winds its way down my chin. 

"Walter..." I meant to make a demand. No more teasing. Fuck me. But it comes out as a breathy plea. Please, Walter, please. 

Mercilessly, he abandons my cock entirely and reaches to my chin to wipe the blood. When his finger appears at my lips, I suck it clean. He smiles at me in the mirror, looking pleased with himself and with me. 

Then his hand moves back down my chest and nears my groin again. Lightly cradling my cock in his fingers, his thumb rubs circles on the head, smearing my pre-cum over the sensitive tip. I hear a sobbing whimper that must be coming from me. Abandoning the image in the mirror, I drop my head on his shoulder, eyes sliding shut. I thrust against his hand, no longer concerned about my complete lack of control. 

As a familiar sensation races down my spine, my eyes fly open and I jerk my head up. I can't believe I am this close to coming. I struggle to still my body and more whimpers fill the room. Jesus, those noises are embarrassing. I watch the passion flushed man in the mirror, chest heaving with labored breaths, eyes glazed. And I cannot believe that it's me. 

"Oh god, Walter..." Half plea, half warning. I wonder if I would still like being fucked if I've already come, because I don't think I can wait much longer. My cock throbs at the thought. Oh hell, there is an alien in my apartment and I am obviously possessed. 

I think he senses how close to the edge I am. His fingers tighten around my cock and slide down the shaft. "It feels so good to touch you, Alex." He's jerking me off firmly, but slowly... too slowly. He starts to thrust behind me, his fat cock gliding between my ass cheeks. 

I can't believe what he does to me. I open my mouth to tell him, but only gasps and moans come out. Even though he's stroking me slowly, my climax is perilously close. Talk, Alex, talk. 

"Wal-ter... I, uh, Christ... Going to come if you don't stop." My brain zeroes in on the pleasure and nothing else. I can't keep still. "Oh fuck... don't stop." 

There's a breath of laughter in my ear as my cock erupts in his hand. The room goes black and I cannot see as the pleasure radiating from my groin fries every nerve ending in my body. I shudder in his arms, struggling to breathe. My knees suddenly collapse. 

His arm tightens around me again. "I've got you. I won't let you fall." I relax my hands, which had clenched in the flesh of his ass, and my arms fall limply to my sides. 

When my brain can again process images, the mirror shows him gazing at me. I don't understand the look on his face... it's thoughtful and intense with a hint of pain, but it's not about sex. I can't fathom where his mind has gone, but there's something more than fucking here. 

I force myself into motion and lift a trembling arm, pulling it out of his grasp so I can stroke the side of his face. I whisper, "Walter... tell me..." I cannot complete my sentence. Tell me what you're thinking, Walter. 

He releases my spent cock and holds me still for a moment until my legs seem more stable. "What, Alex? What are you asking me?" 

His arm loosens around me. Turning to face him, I press against his body. His demanding cock is hard against my stomach. Before I can speak, his lips are on mine and his tongue enters my mouth for a deep kiss. 

Kissing him makes it impossible to focus even though my abused lower lip is protesting. I let myself drown in the sensation of his tongue against mine. When he pulls back, I speak without thinking. "What were you thinking? What are you thinking?" 

He shakes his head. "I'm not sure I have the words. I..." As he trails off, he looks faintly embarrassed. "Watching you come is incredible. I'm... stunned, I guess." It doesn't begin to explain what's going on inside him. And I don't have any idea how to respond. 

"I... That was you, Walt. I can't believe how you affect me." The filter between my brain and my mouth is not working. Not wanting to see his expression, I tip my head and trail my lips along the side of his neck, feeling his pulse point against my swollen lower lip. 

His hand slides up my lower back, in a soothing gesture, as he emits a soft moan. Then, pulling away, he sits on the edge of the bed. He opens his legs and gestures in between them. 

Without a thought, I find myself kneeling on the carpet between his thighs. I run my fingers through the dark hair on his chest, enjoying the novel feel of it under my hands. His eyes locked onto mine, his face in a dreamy daze, he lets me play with his chest for a few moments. Then, impatiently, he intercepts my right hand and moves it to his erection. "Stroke me, Alex." 

My hand closes around his cock and I slowly stroke him. After a few moments, I run my thumb around the head of his cock, then push back down his shaft, using more force and applying pressure to the large vein underneath. 

Walter's breathing becomes rapid and rough. His face tenses and his eyes, though still open, are unfocused, as if he's seeing something other than me and the room around us. 

Most of the semen that got on his hand was smeared on my body but there's still fluid on his fingers. Continuing to stroke his throbbing erection, I use my other hand to capture his and drag the fingers to my mouth. 

He sighs contentedly and his eyelids grow heavy. I like that reaction. 

I suck on all his fingers, slowly drawing the length of each along my tongue. After sliding my tongue along his palm, I place his hand back on his thigh. I caress his arm as I lean forward and swipe my tongue across the tip of his cock, gathering the pre-cum. 

I look up at him with a question in my eyes. 

Walter shakes his head. "Just hands." 

Hmm... okay. I admit, I like the feel of his heavy cock in my hand and it leaves my mouth free for other things. I stroke more purposefully, increasing pressure and speed as I lean forward and catch one of his nipples in my mouth, sucking on it firmly. He gasps and braces his hands on the bed, hips arching up toward my hand. 

Releasing his nipple, I slow and make my touch on his cock feather-light. Walter grunts and rests his weight fully on the mattress. Looking at his face, I see naked lust now mixed with a touch of frustration. I have no doubt he'll put a stop to the teasing if he's really not enjoying it. 

I keep the touch light but use my thumb to put pressure on the throbbing vein at my next upstroke. My mouth seeks the other nipple. 

His hand finds the back of my head and strokes my hair absentmindedly. Uh, no. If he does that I won't be able to focus. 

Pulling back again, I watch his face as I increase the tempo on his cock. Being able to watch him is a definite benefit. He looks so completely in the moment. 

I add pressure to my stroking and watch his eyes become narrow slits. Moving my free hand to his balls, I roll them between my fingers. He groans as I squeeze his cock and balls at the same time. 

He finds my mouth for a kiss, tongue seeking the back of my throat, but he's too breathless to maintain it for long. Soon, he's gasping for air and just brushing his lips across mine. "Harder, Alex," he demands. 

I immediately increase the intensity, applying pressure to the underside of his cock. I lick at his lips then trail my mouth along his jaw and down his neck. Then I suck at the skin right below his collarbone. 

Suddenly, his fingers grip my shoulder and his hips push hard against my hand. "Allllexxxx." My name is a raw moan. 

Using my teeth, I give his neck a very light bite, taking care not to leave a mark. I jack him off faster and he begins to buck, his hand clenching even tighter into my shoulder. 

I know he's at the edge. Pulling back just enough to see his face, the fingers from my free hand slide behind his balls, applying pressure. His eyes are completely unfocused and his breathing erratic. I feel a rush... this sexy man is so lost in sensation because of what I'm doing to him. 

He emits a long, slow growl from deep in his chest, then his entire body goes rigid as he begins to come. His eyes close completely and his face is a parody of agony. "Aaaaahhhhh," he cries. His semen is warm on my stomach. As the last of it pours out of him, he mutters, "Fuck," and collapses back onto the bed. 

I'm still for a moment, absorbing the experience. I slowly rise to my feet and kneel on the bed next to him. His eyes are closed and he's breathing hard. After watching for a moment, I straddle his hips. I desperately want to kiss him. 

Opening his eyes, he focuses on me. I run my hand through the cum on my stomach, then lift it to my lips. Yeah, I like the way Walter tastes. This is starting to become familiar... I like the look in his eyes when I lick semen off my fingers. 

He gives me a tired, not completely present smile. I watch him for a moment, noting the way his boneless form is sprawled on my bed. We never talked about how long he could stay, but I imagine he will have to leave soon. I find myself wanting him to stay... enjoying having him in my bed. The strangeness of that is almost enough for me to usher him out. Now. 

I compromise and kiss him instead. Leaning over, I trace my tongue along the line of his mouth, stroking the inside of his lips while my hand glides along his torso. 

"Mmm." His hands slide up from my waist, kneading my back. "You feel so good, Alex. Too good." Then with a groan, he turns his body and his eyes fall on my alarm clock. 10:43. His face suddenly gets tense and serious. "Shit." He presses his lips to my cheek, holding them there for a moment. When he speaks again, it's almost his A.D. voice. "I'm sorry. I have to go." 

I resist the impulse to groan at this news. I drop a quick kiss on the side of his neck before climbing off the bed. Reaching out a hand, I help pull his still relaxed body upright. "Do you want to shower? If so, there are towels in the bathroom... help yourself to anything you need." I'm troubled by the fact that I don't want him to leave. Turning toward the door, I add, "I'll get your clothes." 

He starts to say something, then stops himself, shakes his head and starts again. "Thank you, Alex." 

I pick up the various articles of clothing, noticing the post-coital detritus in my living room. It's not like me to leave this kind of mess. I lay his suit on my bed, noticing semen on the floor in front of the closet. I shake my head and decide not to deal with anything right now. 

Ten minutes later, dressed again in his suit, he joins me in the living room. He holds out an arm to me. Wearing only my jeans, I rise and wrap my arms around him. 

He offers a tight smile. "I don't think I have to tell you that I enjoyed myself." His lips brush across my forehead. "May I see you again?" 

I try to make my smile a little more relaxed. "I hope so. I meant what I said at the hotel, Walter... anytime." 

He nods. His lips find mine again for an intense, penetrating kiss. When he withdraws his mouth, we are both breathless again. Deep brown eyes lock onto mine. "I'm a little out of practice on the... uh, dating thing. I'm counting on you to let me know if I'm doing it wrong." After a heavy sigh, he adds, "I mean..." He winces and looks away for a moment. 

I press my lips against his jaw, resisting the urge to laugh. I don't exactly have experience with clandestine relationships. And, apparently, neither does he. There's something here that bears thinking about but since I have avoided everything else tonight, I might as well keep going. I murmur near his ear, "There's nothing to do. Your presence is all that's required." I pull my head back to look at him. 

Meeting my gaze again, he says, "Just tell me if I'm doing anything that makes this more difficult for you. Okay?" 

Sighing, I nod. "All right. But I think you're the one saddled with all the difficulty." I touch his face briefly. "Just don't wait too long to come back." Fuck, that sounded needy. I certainly meant it, but cannot believe I said it. I fight the urge to cringe. 

He presses the side of his face against mine and speaks softly into my ear, "As soon as I can." 

I'm appalled by how relieved I am that he will come back. It's just fucking, Alex. Get a grip. I step away after giving him a quick, hard kiss. 

And then he's gone. 

I close the front door, then lean heavily against it, surveying my living room and replaying the events of the last three hours. I speak to the silence, "Will the real Alex Krycek please put in an appearance?" 

After several moments without any profound insight, I push away from the door and start cleaning my apartment. 

* * *

There's hardly any traffic on the streets as I drive home. I ignore the expressway, telling myself that the route is longer. But the truth is that going home doesn't feel good. And the contrast between how it feels being with Alex and how it feels being with Sharon is extreme. 

I can't believe what I fucking said. 'I'm counting on you to let me know if I'm doing it wrong.' Of course I'm doing it wrong. I'm cheating on my wife. Fuck. I don't need Alex or Sharon to tell me I'm an asshole. It's not fair to either of them. 

But what am I going to do about it? Nothing. Not one thing. Damned if I do, but I can't stop. 

There's no question I will see Alex again. It feels almost like a life or death choice. I need the rush of blood pumping in my veins. 

Oh, god, tonight. Holding his body in front of the mirror. Did you see what I saw, Alex? A beautiful slim boy, frantic with need. Needing me... my touch. 

My hand remembers the satiny feel of his hard-on. My mouth remembers the taste of chocolate and the feel of his tongue. My cock remembers his smooth hand... and his tight ass. 

Will I do it again? 

Oh, yes. No doubt about it. 

* * *

Washington D.C.  
Friday, 3 June 1994  
11:38 A.M. 

Friday is another long day spent reviewing evidence in the Rose Killer ops room. I spent Thursday in the field interviewing friends and distant family members of the latest victim. Since he was in a high-profile, political position, the senior agents have been dealing with co-workers and close family. 

The hectic activity around all the interviews made it possible to not think about the evening with Walter. At my apartment. And the fact that having him there didn't bother me. 

But today, the boredom of reviewing a case going nowhere leaves me plenty of free brain cycles to think about a man I fear I'm rapidly becoming obsessed with. Not good. Not good at all. 

I'm plagued by the image of us standing in front of the mirror. I cannot prevent my brain from constantly throwing up that picture. Sort of like an annoying song you can't get out of your head. Except the mental image gives me a hard-on. 

I shift uncomfortably in my seat trying to squelch my runaway thoughts so I can return my attention to the victim profile. Which I think I've read 900 times. Everyone wants to work a serial killer case... it's supposed to be so exciting and good for your career--if he's caught, that is. No one mentions the tedium of working a case that has no promising leads. 

Sighing with frustration, I close my eyes and try to relax. Immediately, I see myself writhing in Walter's arms. I flush with embarrassment... and arousal. 

"You okay, Krycek?" 

I jump, and open my eyes to see Agent Gough staring at me. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" 

"You're just a little flushed. Are you over warm?" 

Oh, if only you knew. "No. Just a little frustrated." 

She stands and shrugs on her jacket. "Why don't you join me for lunch? You can fill me in on your theory about the color purple." 

I roll my eyes, entirely too bored with this joke, and reach for my jacket. 

Agent Gough selects a nice small restaurant. The hostess seems to know her and we're seated immediately. We discuss the case for most of the meal, occasionally asking politely benign personal questions. 

At the end of the meal, she insists we order dessert. "Krycek, you have to try the frozen yogurt." 

"Frozen what?" 

She shakes her head, looking resigned. "It's like ice cream, but it's better for you." Well, that doesn't sound very good. "What flavor do you prefer?" 

"Whatever... anything's fine." 

I only half pay attention as she orders. When the waiter brings it, the smell hits me before I even see it. 

Peaches. 

I stare at the dessert. Creamy frozen stuff layered with fresh peaches. Immediately, I feel myself getting hard as my brain flashes to Walter. Him bending me over his workbench, slippery fingers caressing my asshole, the faint smell of peaches in the air. 

"Krycek, are you okay?" 

Remembering where I am, I glance up at Gough. "What? Why?" 

"You're kind of flushed again. Are you feeling all right?" 

"Yes... yes. I'm fine. This looks, uh, good." 

* * *

Falls Church, Virginia  
Sunday, 5 June 1994  
1:32 P.M. 

After lunch, I decide to take a ride. Mostly to work off what seems to be a perpetual excess of sexual frustration. I bring my bike in from the patio and fill up my water bottle. As I'm reaching for my T-shirt, the phone rings. 

I throw the shirt over my shoulder and reach for the phone, half expecting it to be my real employer. It's been too long since he disrupted my life. There's really only one person I want to talk to. "Yeah?" 

"It's Walt." 

Yeah. That's the one. So much for my resolve to be more detached. "Hi." 

"Are you busy?" His voice is gentle, almost hesitant. 

Uncomfortably realizing that I would change any plans I had if he wanted me, I try to make my response light and neutral. "Well, I was thinking of negotiating a truce with my blender but it's not a high priority." 

"I've got an hour or so... right now, if you're available." 

Only an hour? Fuck. "Are you close, or would you like me to meet you?" Shit. My only consolation is that my voice did not sound as desperate as I actually feel. 

"I'm ten minutes away, but, Alex... I'll have more time later in the week. I don't intend to insult you by calling at the last minute with so little time..." 

Does he think I'm going to be offended? I laugh a little. "I'm not insulted, Walter. Come over." 

"I'm on my way." 

Well, I guess there's no point in putting on the shirt. I was half-hard just hearing his voice, but remembering the last time I wore these shorts, I feel my cock come fully, and painfully, erect. 

Twelve minutes later, I hear a tap on the door. 

I open it and find a jeans-clad Walter bearing a hint of a smile. Oh my, he looks good in denim. I usher him inside, quickly closing and locking the door. 

He hands me a small bag. "Put this in the freezer." 

I'm halfway to the fridge before I look. Ben and Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. It makes me smile. I'm surprised he remembered. He comes for a quick fuck and brings me a present. Speaking of a quick fuck... I toss the carton in the freezer and dart back to Walter. 

His powerful size and definition are emphasized by the snug jeans and form-fitting dark blue Henley. I stare at him and mutter, "Good look for you," then immediately find his mouth with mine. I tug his shirt out of his jeans. 

He tries to speak in between kisses. "I guess this," he nibbles my upper lip, "means you," he nips at my tongue, "want to fuck." 

"Uh-huh," I mutter into his mouth, wholly uninterested in speech at the moment. 

Walter shrugs and grinds his hips into mine. His lips move upward across my nose and to my forehead. His large, graceful hands grope for the waist of my shorts. Yanking them down, he groans in my ear. "We could go for a walk or have a nice chat." 

I bite at the side of his neck and, in a surprisingly calm voice, reply, "Oh, okay." My hands invade his shirt and slide up the muscular planes of his chest. I moan at the feel of his chest hair under my palms, pull away long enough to yank the shirt over his head and kick away my shorts. My mouth finds one of his nipples, sucking and rolling it on my tongue as I work the fly of his jeans. 

Pulling my head away from his chest, I look up at him. "Which would you prefer? Walking or talking?" 

His hand starts at my cheek, brushing gently against my skin, down my neck, across my chest, teasing one nipple, tickling my stomach and finally encircling my cock. I groan at the tingling sensations left in the wake of his wandering hand. Every time he touches my dick, it feels like I'm at the brink of orgasm. 

"Let's walk to your bedroom and talk about your favorite position to get fucked." 

Good answer, Walter. My last coherent thought as all the blood rushes out of my brain and pounds in my dick. I grip his shoulders, feeling a little light-headed. 

Walter toes off his Nikes and wraps an arm around my waist. He guides me down the hall. Releasing me, he turns down the bedcovers. "Lube? Condoms?" 

While I grapple with the bedside drawer, Walter shucks his jeans. Underneath he's wearing a pair of dark blue boxer briefs... that cling to his generous cock and balls. I feel my breath hitch at the sight and stare at him, savoring the vision with my jaw hanging open. Groping blindly, I retrieve a condom. 

His eyes flick to mine and he tracks my gaze back to his crotch. Giving me a shy smile, he casually gropes himself, brown eyes never leaving mine. 

My breath hisses out between my teeth and my questing hand finally comes up with the lube. Tossing the bottle and condom on the bed, I close the short distance between us. I slide to my knees, murmuring against the hand over his crotch, "I think I could come just watching you touch your incredible body, but I want to touch you too much to find out." I slide my hands into his briefs, squeezing his ass before pulling them down. Nudging his hand away, I take a breath and swallow his cock. 

"Uhhhhhh huhhhh." 

All higher brain function ceases at the feel of his heavy erection sliding across my tongue and invading my throat. 

He touches the side of my head, fingers finding a hold in my hair. "Fuck," he manages to gasp. His tone suggests his brain function has also taken a nosedive. I can see his knees weaken and those muscular legs waver. 

Not wanting to stop, but also not wanting to see us wind up in a heap on the floor, I pull my mouth off his cock and break away. Walter looks a little confused. I shift my position while pressing on his hip to turn him. He sits heavily on the bed and I crawl forward between his legs to take him back into my mouth. I hold him in my throat for a moment, relishing the feel of the heavy vein throbbing on my tongue and his musky, masculine smell. 

His hand grips my hair again. He's not trying to control the blowjob, just holding on. 

Of their own accord, my hands wander up his thighs and circle around to grab his ass as my mouth slides up and down his shaft. I back off a little to suck at the head, swirling my tongue around before teasing at the slit, gathering his pre-cum on the tip of my tongue. 

An obnoxious beeping sound comes from somewhere in the room. Still sucking him, I glance around and identify his pants as the source of the irritating noise. 

Walter groans. Though his eyes are still dilated by lust, the expression on his face is extreme disgust. His hand releases my hair and slips to my shoulder. "My cell phone," he says, pushing me away from his groin, "I'm sorry I have to take it." 

I growl low in my throat as I pull away and crawl the short distance to his pants. After extricating the phone from a pocket, I toss it on the bed next to his hip. I bite my lip in frustration. One hour... only one fucking hour and the phone has to ring. 

He takes a deep breath before answering the call. "Skinner." After listening for a moment, he replies, "Will do." He scoots to the top of the bed, leaning against the headboard. Apparently on hold, he rolls his eyes at me. His cock has subsided to half hard. 

I am not liking this. 

Eventually, he speaks again in his Bureau voice, "Yes." His face gets serious. "There's very little to report." After a heavy sigh, which was probably heard on the other end, he replies, "There are some improvements in the profile." His body begins to reflect even less sexual enthusiasm. 

I think not. 

After climbing on the bed, I slide up next to him. Resting on my stomach, I press my face against his hip. It's a good thing he cannot see my expression because I know my grin is evil. Hey, I only promised to behave myself at work. 

I brace one arm on either side of his legs as my head dives for his crotch. I slide my mouth along the length of his cock and suck him inside. 

He suddenly gasps and turns it into a phony cough. Instantly, his fingers are in my hair again, this time yanking me brutally off his cock. Whiplash is a possibility. "No, ma'am, I'm fine. Just a scratchy throat," he says as he glares at me. That look could cut through metal. 

I barely manage to suppress a grin and wiggle down the bed, closer to his feet. He relaxes a little and my lips twitch. I wait a moment, then lean down, sucking two of his toes into my mouth. 

Shaking his head, his body sinks down into the bed, as if trying to hide. His knee twitches. As does his cock. Sensitive feet. 

"He's not a genius. We think he's just very neat and very lucky." 

I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes... I spend all week dealing with the Rose Killer. There are only a few women he could be talking to and it's likely to be the Attorney General. One of the last people I ever expected to interrupt me giving someone a blowjob. 

His eyelids are heavy--from my ministrations, I assume--and his crinkled forehead suggests exasperation--the phone call, most likely. "I understand that you have a political problem, but we are trying to solve the case. And as much as I'd like to tell you we have new evidence, we don't." 

Turning my attention back to more interesting matters, I remove my mouth from his toes and slide my tongue along the arch of his foot. I have never considered feet an erogenous zone but I'm reconsidering my stance based on Walter's quivering responses. He tosses me another acid glare, but is too occupied to object more strenuously. At least I won't have to part with any hair this way. I slide my fingers lightly along the bottom of his foot, watching his face. 

"I understand." Those brown eyes seem to melt... he looks stoned, but annoyed at the same time. The A.G. is ruining my fun here. "Yes, ma'am, but I can't manufacture progress on this case." 

I'm torn between feeling sorry for Walter and wanting to rip the phone out of his hands. My teeth find the fleshy underside of his foot and scrape along the sensitive skin. I turn my attention to the other foot and give it the same treatment. At least he's still mostly erect. 

"I understand. I'll take care of it right away." His other foot is even more sensitive. It starts to rapidly vibrate under my tongue. "I'll have it on your desk by 9 A.M." He makes a face and pushes a button on the phone. Thank god. 

I crawl up the bed and reach for his cock. 

Bending a knee, he places a foot at my sternum and pushes me back. Then the bastard presses more buttons on the phone. Oh, enough. I cannot believe I have been dismissed by a foot. 

"This is A.D. Walter Skinner. I need you to connect me to BSU Unit Manager David Johanssen. It's an urgent matter, so contact him at home or wherever you have to." 

I slide off the other side of the bed and settle on the floor, knees bent against my chest, head resting against the mattress. Not prepared to deal with another foot rejection, I let my eyes drift shut and listen to Walter talk on the phone. 

"Yes, I'll hold." He presses another damned button. "I can't fucking believe you deep-throated me while I was on the phone with the Attorney General." I've only heard that disciplinary voice once before--when he reamed out Mathis. 

I sigh and shake my head. Sounds like a dream come true to me. I think having someone's lips around my dick is the only palatable way to get through an encounter with the Attorney General. I do not want to think about his annoyance, because if I do, I will object to him talking to me that way in my own house. Opening my eyes, I glance at him. 

He rubs his forehead with fingertips, as if trying to eradicate a headache. 

Taking a deep breath, I hold it for a several seconds trying to blank my mind. I'm going to have to ride for hours to erase this frustration. 

Responding to something he hears, he presses a button again. "David? It's Walter. We've got a political problem." He says the word political as if it's a disease. "The Attorney General told the President's Press Secretary we've made progress on the Rose Killer. Now we've been asked to report on our 'progress.'" His voice is resigned. He's obviously had to deal with crap like this before. "I know, David. Calm down. I told her there's nothing we can do except review the dead leads and update the profile." 

I turn my head back to face the wall and shut my eyes again. I have a better idea. Why don't we invite the A.G. to the next crime scene and let her slip around the vic's intestines? Then she can help us find new dead leads. 

"C'mon, David. You've been through these fire drills before. Just get together with the team and revise the damned profile." After a very long pause, he adds, "9 A.M. tomorrow. I'll send the courier over with Baker's report. ... Yeah, at 7 A.M. ... Okay. ... Send me a copy, too. Bye." 

I hear the sound of weight shifting on the bed, then a hand is on my shoulder. "You pissed off at me, Alex?" 

Am I pissed? With a sigh, I reply, "I rather thought it was the reverse, Walter." 

He slips off the bed and squats on the floor in front of me. "Not really." His grin is half apology. "But you did deep throat me while I was talking to the A.G." His fingers run through my hair affectionately. "I apologize for the interruption. It goes with the job, but I do want to give you my full attention." 

I don't know how to respond, so I say nothing. Deciding I do not want to deal with whatever went wrong here, I straighten my legs and lean forward, sliding a hand up his thigh as my tongue slips out and flicks across his nipple. I feel a little distant, but still want to do this. 

"Your blowjobs are too damned effective." He kisses the top of my head, then wraps his arms around me and whispers in my ear, "Tell me what you need, Alex." 

My brain is a jumble of disconnected thoughts I do not wish to explore. Not wanting to go any further down the path started by the phone call, I suck at the skin along his collarbone before replying, "Forget about the last fifteen minutes and fuck me, Walter." 

He pulls away from me a little and meets my eyes. After a moment's assessment, his face softens a bit and he kisses me. His tongue is gentle at first, but after moaning into my mouth, he ups the ante and gives me one of the possessive kisses I've come to crave. The touch of his mouth and tongue bring me harshly back into the moment, painfully aware of the needs of my body. I arch up, pulling him harder against me. I work a hand between us and find his cock, caressing with long, rhythmic strokes. 

He's fully hard. I guess I turn him on enough to counteract the effects of the conversation with the A.G. His eyes fall closed and his shoulders tremble a bit. After thrusting into my hand a few times, he reaches out to grasp my wrist, halting my movements. "No more," he says breathlessly. "On the bed." 

We rise, and Walter pushes me onto my back. Then he straddles my legs and lowers his body onto mine. Our cocks press together and I move against him, gasping at the sensation. 

I pull his head down for another kiss, opening my mouth under his, then sucking his tongue. Keeping one hand at his head, I slide the other down his back and grab his ass, kneading the firm flesh. 

He breaks the kiss and gazes down at me intently. "So what is your favorite position for getting fucked?" 

It's on the tip of my tongue to reply that I have not experienced very many, but I manage to stop myself. Definitely want to stay away from that conversation. I realize my mouth is open and nothing is coming out. Snapping my jaw shut, I struggle to come up with something. "I would be hard pressed..." I cannot completely suppress a grin at my own bad joke, "to pick a favorite, Walter." 

He gives me a knowing look and I'm positive he can read my mind. He knows he's the only one I let fuck me. Then he smiles and the moment is gone. I wonder what he knows... how well he can read me... a terrifying thought. 

Rolling off to my side, he kisses my face. Then his lips trail down my chin, onto my neck and he sucks my collarbone. Terrifying thoughts are forgotten at the feel of his mouth on my skin. "Mmm," he mumbles, as if I taste good. "On your side, then." Easing himself away to make room, he gestures for me to shift to my side. 

I thought I'd fucked in every possible position, but not this one. I turn away from him, my butt trembling slightly with anticipation. Warm hands trace down my back, touching lightly. I moan and press back, wanting to feel his hands on my ass. 

Then he slides in close behind me, arm wrapped around my waist. "Bend your knees," he whispers. 

My heart sets up a rapid tempo in my chest as I pull my knees up, exposing myself to him. Some part of me feels vaguely uncomfortable, but it's easily forgotten in the feel of Walter's body pressed against mine. My restless hands feel useless. I can easily touch the arm around my waist, so I stroke it lightly. My other hand reaches back to trace the line of his hip. 

His free arm slips under my neck, fingers brushing lightly across my pecs. His lips find the back of my neck, nibbling and biting gently. 

Gasping, I tilt my head forward to give him better access. His lips and skin against my body create a haze of pleasure that engulfs my brain. 

The hand at my waist eases across my abdomen and encircles my erection. My hips jerk into his touch. "This feels nice," he whispers breathlessly in my ear. 

"Mmm..." Moaning feels like a highly evolved form of speech as Walter's touch robs me of my ability to verbalize. I turn my head toward the arm supporting my neck and caress his skin with my lips and tongue. 

My body cannot decide whether to press forward into the hand holding my cock or rub my ass back against his erection. I find myself writhing in his arms, briefly embarrassed by my lack of control, then too immersed in pleasure to care. 

All too soon, the hand on my cock is taken away. Large, warm fingers knead my ass cheeks. He nips the skin under my ear as he teases my crack. His hips thrust against me, his hard-on brushing my hip. 

I grind my butt against his crotch. Reaching my free arm back, I grasp the back of his neck. Cranking my head around to the point of discomfort, I meet his gaze. I want to tell him how incredible it feels when he touches me. "Walt..." I lose my train of thought and pull his mouth to mine. 

He groans into the kiss, his deft fingers still tormenting the tender skin around my asshole. After biting my upper lip gently, his tongue attacks my mouth, executing a devastatingly effective search and destroy mission. 

When he breaks the kiss, my eyes flutter open. He's gazing down at me with a warm smile, brown eyes filled with feeling. I'm stunned. I feel so connected to him when we kiss. It's strange to consider that it might be the same for him. I clamp down on the thought, not wanting to go any further. I feel my breathing accelerate and everything swims out of focus. 

Walter kisses the side of my face. "You okay?" 

Okay? No. But I can't tell him how confused I am about the pleasure I feel with him. "Yeah. I just... It feels so good when you touch me. It's overwhelming." All true, just not the whole truth. I will my brain to shut off. 

"Damned good." He kisses my temple. "Relax your neck. Just let me take care of you, Alex." I feel my eyes widen and know he sees the surprise on my face. I quickly bring my expression under control and roll my head back to a more comfortable position. The arm under me slips back and he rubs the nape of my neck. 

His words are unsettling, but it is too easy to get lost in sensation and forget my unease. My eyes drift shut and the muscles relax under his skilled fingers. I roll my head a little more, exposing my neck to him. 

He takes the bait and his lips find my neck, gnawing gently. Then the heat of his body is suddenly gone. 

I torque my neck again, ready to grumble about the loss, when I see he's rolling on the condom. Relaxing back with a whimper, I make a try at patience. Mercifully, his body soon envelops mine again. His hand brushes against my ass briefly, then appears holding the lube bottle, which he deftly opens one handed. 

I reach for the bottle and pour some into his hand. He warms it with a slow, sensual movement of his long fingers, before easing them between my ass cheeks. 

We sigh in unison as he beings to massage my anus. Tingling sensation spreads out from my ass and seems to caress every nerve ending down to the tips of my fingers. I groan and undulate against him. 

I'm hungry for more. I want him inside me. Want the sharp sensation of him stretching me... forcing me open. I manage to gasp out, "Walter, please..." 

I hear a soft chuckle, but then one of his slippery fingers enters me. He explores my ass, brushing across my prostate, before pushing a second finger inside. 

There's a hiss and I realize it came from me. There is normally a feeling of franticness every time Walter touches me, but I've been lost in the languid pleasure of his caresses. At the feel of his fingers moving inside my body, the desperation comes crashing back. 

As much as my limited position will allow, I press my ass onto his fingers. I lift my head to ask him to do it harder when I catch sight of us in the mirror. I groan and drop my head back on his arm. The picture of me desperately wiggling in his arms and on his fingers is burned onto my retinas. 

I should be embarrassed, but the vision of Walter's large hand moving against my ass makes my cock throb. I let my mind caress the image of his long muscular legs stretched out on my bed. 

As if hearing my unspoken thoughts, he starts to fuck me harder and faster. His fingers scissor inside me, opening me wider. My breath hitches at the feeling of being stretched and prepared for his cock. 

The room is filled with the sound of rhythmic grunts in time with the thrusting fingers in my ass. The noises are coming from my throat. Yeah, that is embarrassing. 

And then the fingers withdraw and a sound comes from him. A low groan from his chest vibrates against my back. 

He shifts his body weight against the bed, adjusting his position. 

When the head of his cock touches my anus, I shudder and moan. 

This time, when he chuckles, the sound is muffled by his own breathless desire. With excruciating slowness, he pushes the head of his cock inside me. 

My breathing stops and I focus on the sensation of him slowly breaching my ass. I take a gasping breath and pull my top leg up toward my chest to give him better access. He pushes into me a little more and, of its own volition, my hand is at my ass, pulling myself open for his penetration. 

"Oh, Christ, Alex," he mutters as he continues to enter me. I detect his tension from his irregular breathing. Mere seconds after contact with my ass, he's close to coming. Feeling him so aroused creates a warm, liquid sensation in my stomach. Arousing my sex partners has always given me a feeling of power, but it makes me feel vulnerable to Walter. The realization causes a hot flush to break out over my face and chest, and I find myself gasping. It's like my skin is burning off. I try to remember to breathe as the heat builds in cadence with my arousal. 

He fills me so gradually that I have to fight the urge to shove my ass backward. When at last I feel his crotch flush with my butt, he emits a long, impassioned moan. He adjusts his arms around me and just holds me. Unmoving. 

I try to keep my body still, but my desperation manifests itself in my head's restless movements. Breathing hard, I roll my head and find Walter watching me. I still and meet his stare. I struggle with my uneven breathing and feel my face heat up even more under the weight of his gaze. 

His face reveals lust and something else... concentration. He's consciously regulating his breathing, calming himself. And yet, I feel the rapid beat of his heart where he's pressed against me. When his respiration has eased a bit, a hint of a smile shows on his face. 

He pulls back and begins to thrust. It's a gentle fuck. Too damned gentle. But still oddly satisfying. It's like being fucked and held at the same time. I am in unfamiliar territory and I don't even have a clear instinct to tell me what to do. I groan and move my head, pressing my overheated cheek against the cool sheet. He's holding me in his arms, totally in control. 'Just let me take care of you...' 

Nobody takes care of me. And I'm certainly not accustomed to giving my body over to someone and letting them take care of my pleasure. I feel panic again. Panic, not because of what he's doing, but because I want him to do it. Oh, fuck. 

Without thought, my rectum begins clenching around his invading cock. 

Walter responds with a desperate moan. He pumps into me steadily. Relentlessly. 

I take a deep breath. The air escapes from my lungs as something like a sob. "Please, Walter..." 

Suddenly the rhythm of his cock in my ass shifts. Faster, then slower, then faster again. He's lost control for a moment. Then he utters a breathy, "Please what?" Then a shallow gasp is followed by, "Tell me..." 

"I... please..." Fuck me until I stop panicking. No... cannot say that. "Please... I need..." This is all wrong... but it feels too good to stop. With every thrust of his cock in my ass, I inch my knee closer to my chest. I am going to have bruises on my ass from my own hand pulling at the flesh. Another sobbing breath escapes from my lungs. "God, I... don't know..." My uncontrolled noises add to both my panic and the desperately escalating desire. 

I'm grateful when he doesn't laugh at my feeble attempt to communicate. He does start fucking me just a little harder and a little faster. It's still easy... nothing near the brutal reaming he gave me at the motel. 

His hand twitches toward my cock, but he doesn't take it in hand yet. Already, he knows my body well enough to know that it won't take much. With his cock inside me, it never has. 

Walter shifts his hips a bit, adjusting the angle of penetration so his cock gives my prostate a deliciously abrasive rub on each thrust. Suddenly nothing exists but his cock in my ass and his arms around me. His breathing is out of control again. I feel the tautness of every muscle in his body. He won't last long. "Fuuuuck, Allleexxx." 

A long, slow growl rises from his chest. Suddenly, his hand gropes me, awkwardly trying to find my cock. Instinctively, I move my knee down to give him access. He begins to come at the moment his fingers close around my erection. His cock pulses deep inside me. I gasp and writhe trying to increase the sensation, as he clumsily jerks me off. His body shudders, but he never lets go of me... holding on tight as he collapses into the chaos of his orgasm. 

I grab the hand on my cock and hold it still. I teeter on the brink of orgasm and wait, wanting to feel the last tremors rack his body. Unaware of anything other than the body becoming lax against my back, my climax takes me by surprise. His hand squeezes my cock and sharp sensation rips through me. A strangled scream emits from my throat and my shoulder lifts from the bed. 

As the world slowly comes back into focus, I find myself breathing hard and curled forward around his hand. During the oblivion of orgasm, I pulled my legs up against my rounded torso, effectively trapping his arm. 

The hand wrapped around my cock relaxes, carefully holding my dwindling erection. He curls his body tighter around mine. His free hand begins stroking my hair very slowly. 

I gasp as I try to even out my breathing, letting my body relax against his. My hand is still digging into my own hip. I let go and my arm slides back to the mattress. I feel wrung out... unable to think of anything. I'm grateful to have my brainless state enhanced by his hand in my hair. 

He eases his hand free of my cock and strokes my butt. It's a soothing gesture that adds to my pleasant state of fatigue. The fingers in my hair massage my scalp. 

It takes a few minutes before I realize that he must be late. And yet he's lying here petting me. I give a contented sigh and force myself to move. I roll over and face him. Throwing one leg over his hip, I stroke the side of his face and neck. I stare at him for a few moments before murmuring, "I know you need to go, Walt." 

"Shh," he whispers, touching my face lightly with his fingertips. "I'm not going to fuck you and immediately walk out the door." A strong arm slides around my waist, holding me firmly, enforcing his words. His lips find my cheek. "Let's enjoy a few minutes together." 

I open my mouth--to protest, I think--but then just close it and nod slowly. I do not know what to make of the situation... or Walter. But I'm too sated and wiped out to have any interest in exploring the inadvisability of this relationship. 

I relax against him and let my eyes slide shut. My hand caresses along his shoulder and around to his back. 

He pulls me closer so my face is touching his. Neither of us speaks. 

I wonder if this is something he's used to. I've certainly never lain in bed like this with someone. I decide to blank my mind and give over to it... at least for a little while. 

After five or ten minutes, he eases out of my embrace and smiles down at me as he rises. "I need a shower." 

"Okay." 

He bends over to kiss me on the forehead, before heading for the bathroom. 

Once he is in the shower, I swing off the bed and begin to round up his clothes. After setting them on the bed, I impulsively head for the bathroom. I should probably give him privacy but decide to watch him through the clear glass shower doors. 

I like watching him move. Even doing something as simple as bathing, there's a sense of barely leashed power about him. Much to my surprise, I find this to be one of the things that turns me on. And I have to wonder why. 

After a moment, I turn to the sink and quickly clean the semen off my chest and abdomen. 

After a very quick shower, the water shuts off and, before I can stop myself, I step into the shower with a towel. He looks a little surprised and starts to say something. Whatever he was about to say is cut off when I step forward and start to dry him. I'm not sure what my motives are, and I will not meet his eyes, but I enjoy another opportunity to touch his body. After reaching around to dry his back, I suddenly feel a little awkward. 

His eyes are bright and his expression is satisfied. He enjoys my ministrations. "Thank you, Alex." 

I run my hand through my hair and step out of the tub. "I, uh, left your clothes on the bed." 

Once out of the shower, he kisses me. His tongue tours my mouth briefly before he steps away and returns to the bedroom. 

While he dresses, I head to the living room and pull on my bike shorts, then flop on the couch. Closing my eyes, I wonder when he'll be back. Then find myself wondering if I want him to come back. 

I've experienced more anxiety this afternoon than I have in the last ten years. Is it really worth it? I mean, that came really close to being an... argument? I chew my lip for a moment and make a decision. 

It is worth it. Because it's a lot easier to ignore some occasional unease than to forget how good this feels. 

When he joins me in the living room, his clothes look only slightly rumpled. I find myself conjecturing that his wife will look at him and know. I briefly wonder what's wrong with his marriage, but quickly squelch the thought. It's none of my business. 

He extends a hand to me and guides me into his embrace. "Thank you for this afternoon, Alex. I'm sorry about the phone call." 

I shrug. "Certainly the last person I expected to interrupt one of my blowjobs." I grin at him. "I'm sure I'll be amused by it in, oh, 10 or 15 years." Back to the important stuff. "Speaking of the fine art of oral sex... I want the opportunity to finish what was interrupted earlier. You said you had some time later in the week?" I manage to keep the eagerness out of my voice... barely. 

He hesitates before speaking, as if concerned about my reaction. This is very unlike the Walter Skinner I know. "I would like to spend the night with you. Would you like that?" His voice is tentative, almost shy. 

My brain stops functioning and I just look at him. "Yeah, I would." Okay, who is speaking? That cannot possibly have been me. I clear my throat and try again. "Umm... when?" Said the wrong thing again. I wish I could gain control of my higher brain functions. I seem to be operating at a reptilian level. 

"Thursday night my wife..." His face goes dark on the word 'wife.' Is he ashamed of his infidelity? "...will be in New York. Is Thursday good for you?" 

A remote part of my brain cringes at the shame, but I firmly remind myself that his marriage is his issue. And none of my business. 

I reach up and trace his lower lip with my fingertips. "Yeah, Thursday is good." 

"Seven o'clock? I'll bring dinner." 

"Uh, there's plenty to drink here so just bring food." 

He nods. "I'll see you on Thursday then." His hand finds the back of my neck, rubbing gently, before he kisses me goodbye. 

"Walter?" 

He looks back at me, hand poised on the doorknob. "Yes?" 

"Umm... thanks for the ice cream." 

He gives me a brief nod, a smile, then opens the door. After it closes, I stand in the middle of the room, not moving. Mercifully, my mind is blank. I feel the need to completely exhaust myself before it kicks back into high gear. I gather my bike gear and prepare to leave. 

* * *

I sit in the car for a moment, remembering the last hour and a half with Alex. God, I like touching him, looking at him, tasting him. 

Shaking my head to encourage blood flow to my brain, I open my cell phone and press the first preset. 

"Hello?" 

"Sharon, It's Walt." 

She doesn't reply. 

"I'm sorry I'm late. I got a call from the Attorney General. It caused a few problems I had to work out." Wanting Alex makes the lie painfully easy. 

"Are you going to be home in time to take me to the opening?" 

"I'm heading home now. I should be there in forty minutes." 

"Fine," she answers coldly, disconnecting the phone. 

I listen to the dial tone for a moment. A niggling thought is floating around my head... this is more than just sex. I press the preset for Section Chief Baker, using business to eradicate my uncomfortable thoughts... a practice that has served me well for quite a few years. 

* * *

Washington, D.C.  
Wednesday, 8 June 1994  
9:10 A.M. 

Wednesday morning finds me working with Unit Manager Kym. I begin to see a pattern in who I work with... whichever senior agent needs the most help. It's such fun being the junior agent. 

Today, Kym has the unenviable task of sorting through miscellaneous information about the six victims in yet another attempt to find a connection. 

Because there are no obvious similarities between them, we're at the stage of sorting through the most mundane details of the victims' lives. I'm in the process of looking to see if any of the victims carry the same credit card. After ten minutes of paper shuffling, the answer is no. 

This is unbelievably boring and in no way takes my mind off Walter. My thoughts are constantly on tomorrow night. I'm not sure if I feel exhilaration or trepidation. And I stubbornly refuse to analyze it. 

Agent Kym's deep sigh grabs my attention. He looks frustrated. Apparently his quest has yielded equally futile results. 

He looks at the whiteboards we're using to 'organize' the details of the victim's lives. Only major information makes it onto the boards, as we don't have much space. All the minor details are buried in the files and kept track of on page after page of yellow legal-size paper. 

Rubbing his hands over his face, he mumbles, "There has to be a better way to do this." 

"It would be a lot easier to manage if we had this information in the computer and were not forced to shuffle papers hour after hour." 

"Are you kidding? It would take those nerds weeks to come up with something useful. I don't know..." He pauses and looks thoughtful. "But, at the rate we're going, it can't hurt to get 'em started." 

"Well, that would be helpful, but we need something now." 

He looks skeptical. "You have a suggestion?" 

"Just entering the core information in a spreadsheet and getting it off the board would be useful. We could pass everyone a copy and add detail whenever we need to." 

His expression is blank and he asks the same question. "You have a suggestion?" 

Okay, the guy apparently is not computer literate. I decide for a different approach. "It would only take a couple of hours. Do you want me to do it?" 

"Uh, yeah. If you think it'll help." 

"It can't possibly make things any worse." 

He laughs and sets out to free up one of the room's three computers. 

Three hours later, I have a printout of the board information. It's well past lunch and I'm starving. I hand it to Agent Kym on my way out the door. "I'm going to grab lunch." 

When I return, Kym and Gough ask me how much more information we can add to the spreadsheet. I sigh and prepare them for bad news. "Well, that's the problem. Not much. The volume and variety of information don't lend themselves to a flat filing system... not if we want to extract anything useful out of it." 

"What does that mean exactly?" This from Agent Gough. It's just too absurd. 

"We need to transfer it to a database." 

Kym pipes up this time. "Please don't tell me we need the computer guys to do this." 

"Ideally. They really should have some type of software that will track this stuff." 

Gough replies, "It will take weeks. Any chance you can do it?" 

"Write software? No. I can create a very rudimentary database but-" 

Kym cuts me off, "Good. Do that. The geeks can take it from there." They both turn and walk off. Well, shit. 

By 5:00, I have the basic structure for the database and have imported the core information. Now, we need some of the more detailed information buried in the files. 

I look at the piles of folders and papers that represent the lives of the six victims. How long could it take? 

* * *

Thursday, 9 June 1994  
5:20 A.M. 

Twelve hours later, I have my answer. The pile represented about 18 hours of work. I could finish in about six more hours, but all this data is useless if I'm the only one able to access it. And I have a strong feeling that would be the case. 

I set the remaining pile of information aside and begin trying to sort the information in the database. 

I'm blearily staring at the computer screen, working on a report, when I hear Agent Gough's voice. 

"Early riser, Krycek?" 

I absently mumble, "Never left." I glance at the wall clock. 7:05. 

"What?" She walks over to stand by my chair. 

I look up at her. "Got kind of entrenched in this and decided to stick it out." I hand her the print outs of the completed reports. 

She starts flipping through the data and murmurs, "This is interesting." 

I turn back to the computer. About an hour later, I send the last report to the printer and turn to find Gough and Unit Manager Kym bearing down on me. Kym sits next to me. "Explain what you did." He has a copy of one of the more complex reports, already covered in notes and highlighter markings. 

I assume he's not asking for basic database theory, so I give him a brief rundown on what information I entered and how it can be manipulated. I also explain that I have at least six more hours of data to enter. 

Kym tells me to show Mallory what to do. Mallory must be able turn the computer on... or something equally advanced. 

I sit down to go over the remaining files with Mallory. 

Out of the blue, a hand appears in front of me, plucking the file I'm reviewing off the table. I look up and meet the eyes of Section Chief Baker. "Sir?" 

"Go home, Krycek. You look beat." Before I can reply, he joins Gough at one of the computers. 

Christ, it's only 9:00 A.M. I don't particularly want to go home. I still have ten hours until Walter arrives, and I do not need that much time alone with my thoughts. 

I realize I'm just staring after Baker when I feel a nudge at my shoulder. I glance over at Mallory. "Get some sleep, Alex. We'll work on this tomorrow." Mallory is friendlier than many of the other agents. Probably hasn't been an agent long enough to know better. 

Not given much of a choice, I put on my jacket and head for the door. Agent Gough's voice stops me. 

"Nice job on this, Krycek." Baker nods his agreement and they turn back to the computer screen. 

I try to visualize Baker's expression if I said, 'That's okay. It kept me from obsessing about your boss's dick.' I manage to suppress a grin and leave the room. 

Half an hour later, I'm pacing around my apartment, trying to decide what to do, when I realize I am very tired. Still dressed, I lie on the bed to see if I can waste some time sleeping. 

I wake up a little before four, feeling very groggy and surprised that I conked out for six hours. The light on my answering machine is blinking. It's another message from Nick. Checking to see if I'm still 'off the market.' God, he makes it sound like I'm married. I find myself instantly annoyed. He's not exactly being obnoxious, but I'm accustomed to problems going away when I want them to. 

Feeling a sudden need to ride, I change clothes and head out. 

A short distance into my ride, I stop at a payphone to check my voicemail messages. Nothing new. 

After a while, my muscles are feeling loose and the endorphins are flowing. I realize I should probably head back. I ask a passerby the time. Shit. I've been out for almost an hour and a half. I'll be lucky to make it back before Walter arrives. 

I'm dripping sweat by the time I get home. I heave a sigh of relief at not seeing Walter's car. I grab my bike and head up the stairs. 

* * *

Falls Church, VA  
7:18 P.M. 

When I reach the top of the stairs, I see Alex with his bike balanced on one hip, unlocking the door. He's completely drenched in sweat, face flushed. Tight tank top showing off the lean muscles of his chest. Bike shorts provide an appealing silhouette of groin and thigh. I feel the blood rush to my crotch. Reminds me of our first encounter in my garage. 

"Alex?" 

His head jerks around. "Uh, hi." His eyes rake over me and he seems to flush a little more. Pushing open the door, he gestures for me to precede him into the apartment. As the door closes, he moves past me with the bike. "Just a sec. Let me put my bike on the patio." He pauses and looks back at me. "Umm... nice shirt, Walter." 

Inordinately pleased that my tight white T-shirt has the desired effect, I offload the box from the Italian deli on the kitchen table. 

Alex secures the bike outside, then grabs a towel from the kitchen. He hitches a hip against the table, rubbing the towel over his face and hair. "Sorry. I lost track of time." 

I curl an arm around his sweaty waist and pull him into a kiss. He moans and his breath catches. He kisses me briefly, but he's nervous today. Breaking away, he goes into the kitchen. "Umm... I'm dying of thirst. Do you want something to drink?" 

"Sure. How about a beer?" 

"Shit. I'm out of tea." His voice is muffled as he speaks into the refrigerator. He returns, passing me a brown bottle. There's a look of mild annoyance on his face. 

"Do you need to make some?" 

"Huh?" He looks confused. 

"Do you want to brew some tea?" 

"Brew? Uh, no. I'll go buy some. There is a 7-11 around the corner. I'll be back." He grabs his keys and heads out. 

I stare at the closed door for a minute, tempted to laugh at my jumpy lover. He's obviously upset about something, but it doesn't appear serious. My guess is he's not going to just open up and talk to me about it either. 

Twisting the cap off the beer, I take a swig and unpack the food. Presumably he'll be back soon. If not, I can always refrigerate the antipasto and sandwiches. 

I'm in a good mood. Changing into casual clothes before leaving work helped me get into a relaxed frame of mind. The anticipation feels good. My cock knows. I'm half hard standing here by myself. But if something is bothering Alex we might not fuck. That would be okay, too. 

I select a copy of National Geographic from his bookcase and sit in the living room. I'm reading about leaf cutter ants when the doorbell rings. Alex took his key... so? 

The peephole reveals a young man. He appears benign, so I open the door. 

"Yes?" 

Light blue eyes widen with surprise. The young man, who can't be more than 25, begins a slow perusal of my body, a seductive smile curving his lips. He drags his eyes along my form, returns to my face, then leans against the doorjamb. "Well, hello there, handsome." 

Oh, Christ. And this would be... a friend of Alex's? "Can I help you?" 

He shifts his weight to the other hip, wiggling a little more than necessary. "Well, I thought I was here to see Alex, but I'm perfectly happy to see you, sexy." He's almost batting his eyelashes. 

I roll my eyes at the slender blonde. He's wearing tight, low riding jeans and a white mesh tank top, which reveals more than it conceals of his skinny chest. "Yeah, well, I'm not on the menu. Why don't you give me your name and I'll tell Alex you came by." 

He looks a little surprised. "Alex isn't here? Since when does he let anyone stay in his apartment when he's not home?" His expression becomes speculative. 

I'm getting a feeling about this guy. Not a friend... a lover, perhaps? Current or ex? I can hardly fault Alex for cheating. 

"You must be very entertaining... wanna tell me your name, gorgeous?" He's back to flirting. Makes me wish I had a flyswatter. If he is a lover, Alex's taste in men has changed recently. Dramatically. 

"Actually, no." I know how to brush him off effectively, but it seems uncharitable to be rude to Alex's friend... or whatever. 

"Well, that's just too bad but, then again, names can be overrated. I can--" 

"Nick!" Alex's icy tone makes the guy jump, then turn around. Alex closes the short distance, his expression stony. 

The blonde--apparently Nick--flashes him a sultry smile. "Alex, baby, we were just talking about you." 

Alex growls and Nick sighs. "Oh, I know you don't like it, but 'baby' just suits you." Nick reaches out to touch Alex's chest. Alex clamps a hand around Nick's wrist, yanking it away. Definitely ex. One that Alex clearly has no patience for. 

"What do you want, Nick?" Alex's expression could freeze water. He has never given me that look, but then I never called him 'baby' either. 

Nick flashes another flirtatious smile that seems to include us both... and probably anyone within a hundred yards. "Oh, I just came by to see if you'd changed your mind but I see you're occupied." 

"Correct. You can go now." 

Nick shivers with something like delight. "You're such a hard case, baby." Alex scowls. "But that's what I like about you. Well, one of the things." He looks pointedly at Alex's crotch. "If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me." Nick turns to me. "Same goes for you, gorgeous." Blowing me a kiss, Nick sidesteps Alex and heads for the stairs, waving and calling to us both, "Ciao!" 

Fighting a laugh, because Alex is obviously pissed, I step aside, allowing him to enter. He moves to the dining area, setting his bag on the table. His jaw is clenched and he distractedly runs his hand through his damp hair. Sighing heavily, he turns to me, rolling his shoulders as if trying to ease the tension. "Sorry. Umm... Nick can be a bit flirtatious." 

I move to stand directly in front of him, reaching out to rub his shoulders, and risking a smile. "I can survive a little flirting. You want to talk about it?" 

"About Nick? No. I was just surprised to see him. He has a, uh, knack for pushing my buttons." His muscles relax a bit under my fingers and, sighing, he rests his head against my shoulder. One hand slowly strokes along my ribcage. 

I can't help but wonder at the obvious differences between Nick and me. Not two men you'd figure the same man to take an interest in. My intuition suggests I'm the anomaly, but I don't really understand. Alex doesn't open himself up any better than I do. 

It's not important. Alex doesn't pry about Sharon. He deserves the same courtesy. 

My hands slip around to his back, rubbing hard to break through his tension. 

He suddenly pulls away, green eyes looking almost sad. "Ugh. Sorry... I'm all sweaty." 

I can sympathize about his sweaty condition. I wouldn't want anyone touching me after a workout. But I don't smell like eau de lust either. Looking and smelling the way he does, the boy is an incitement to violence. 

I step close again and circle him in my arms to discourage another escape attempt. "I know... You look damned good. Smell good, too." I nuzzle his damp hair. 

His hands move restlessly against my chest in a sort of nervous fashion. He takes a shuddering breath, then relaxes against me, one arm winding around my neck. His other hand is pressed against my chest and he begins to knead my pecs. His voice is a murmur near my ear. "Really, really nice shirt, Walt." He pulls his head back enough to find my mouth and glides his tongue over my lips. 

His erection rubs against my thigh. My own hard-on responds instantly, painfully cramped in my jeans. The Walter who thought sex was optional tonight must have gone home. 

I drop one hand and slide it down to his cock. 

Alex groans and presses into my palm. His mouth clamps on mine, lips parting for me. He tugs at my shirt, then tangles his fingers in my chest hair. 

Oh, god. Here we go again. But hell, I can live with it. I've got much worse problems than an overwhelming need to put my cock up his sweet ass. 

Yanking his tank top up, I manage to remove it between kisses. Then I slide one hand into the bike shorts, groping his balls. He rotates his crotch against my hand. Something between a sigh and a moan comes out of my mouth. My tongue ravages his mouth. I have got to slow down. 

I break the kiss and take a deep breath. His eyelids are limp, fingers still wandering in my chest hair. 

"Alex?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Let's take this into the bedroom." 

He looks at me, but his eyes are a little glazed. His fingertips move across my nipple as he nods his acquiescence. Then he stills and looks at me a little more sharply. "Umm, you sure you don't want me to shower first?" 

"If it would make you more comfortable, I can wait." I stroke the side of his cheek with my fingertips. "But there's no question you're turning me on like that." 

His gaze becomes heated and his breathing a little more rapid. "Fuck, Walter..." He pulls our bodies together, grinding his erection against mine and sucking my earlobe into his mouth. "I don't think I can wait." 

Yeah, tell me about it, kid. "Get your tea." I'm not going to be rushed tonight, so I stash the food in the fridge. 

In the bedroom, after kicking off my shoes, I toss back the covers and sit, leaning against the headboard. Alex starts to join me on the bed, but I shake my head. "Stay there. Undress for me." 

His eyes widen with surprise. It's an obnoxious command, perhaps, but I enjoy watching him. Maybe he'll enjoy it, too. After a moment, his expression clears. Locking his eyes on mine, he places one foot on the bed, then runs his tongue over his lower lip as he leans forward to unlace the shoe. He tosses the shoe and sock away and brings the other leg up. This time he bites his lip and his breathing accelerates as he watches me. 

The way his passionate eyes hold mine is intense enough that I forget to breathe. 

All that's left are the shorts. He slides both hands into the waistband, carefully peeling them down and freeing his straining erection. His palms glide along his thighs, pushing the shorts to his ankles, then he kicks them away. 

He's got devastatingly sexy legs... muscular, shapely and long. Those bike rides have paid off. 

Does he know how much pleasure I get just from looking at his body? Can he see it on my face? It scares me a little... how much I desire him. Fuck, he deserves to hear it. He's doing whatever I tell him. "Have I told you how much your body turns me on, Alex? So long and lean... and elegant when you move... almost like a cat." 

I've certainly been around Alex enough to know he's not much of a talker, so I'm half surprised when he responds. "I'm glad you like it, Walter." His voice is a husky murmur. "Because your desire turns me on... probably more than is strictly good for my sanity." 

It's good to know I'm not alone in the lust madness. "Tell me, Alex. Talk to me." 

Alex leans against the wall, hands folded behind his back, and fixes his heavy-lidded gaze on me. "Tell you about my insanity? Hmm... Your body is the source of my madness. It's crazy-making thinking about the way your chest hair feels under my hands and tongue... the way your nipples feel between my lips." 

His raspy voice is hotter than a hand on my cock. My body freezes, tense with need, as I listen. 

"I get hard thinking about the texture of your cock throbbing against my tongue, the feel of it sliding down my throat... the way your hands feel on my skin." 

I think I'm about to come in my pants from the husky sound of his voice. My hand makes an aborted movement toward my trapped and straining erection. 

Alex swallows convulsively and takes a shuddering breath. "I could come just thinking about the feel of your cock in my ass." As if in confirmation, his dick twitches. "I think about your body, and the fact that you desire me, and all I want to do is turn you on." 

He's just talking about sex and yet... somehow he's revealed more of himself. I wish I understood. 

Alex pushes away from the wall and steps closer to the bed. "What else can I do to turn you on, Walt?" Naked, he waits silently, expecting another command. 

I am only too willing to oblige. "Turn around." 

He pivots gracefully on the ball of one foot and stands with his feet about eighteen inches apart, giving me the best possible view of his round ass. My hand drops to my jeans, shifting the heavy fabric, trying to make more room for my cock. "Turn again." 

After an about-face, he gazes at me, eyes shiny and bright. I think he's enjoying himself. I'd stop telling him what to do if he gave even a hint of displeasure. 

"Now take off my clothes, Alex." 

He takes a deep breath and moves to the end of the bed. Kneeling on it, he reaches for my foot and slides the sock off. Flashing me a mischievous look, he bends down and his tongue glides along the arch of my foot. 

I can't help but smile as my leg wriggles to both escape and prolong the tingle. It's a lot easier to enjoy this when I'm not on the phone with the Attorney General. 

He gives the other foot the same treatment. 

Dropping to all fours, he crawls up the bed, hands and knees on either side of me. He sits back on my thighs and reaches for my chest. Hands glide down the taut fabric of the T-shirt, then slide under the hem. He gathers the material in his fingers and pushes up the shirt. 

I sit forward so he can pull it over my head. His mouth fastens on my nipple as he rakes his hands down my sides. 

A shiver teases my spine. It has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. "Mmm. Very nice, Alex." I feel his lips curve into a smile. 

Alex scoots backward a little and his tongue finds my navel as he opens my fly. He swings off the bed and leans over me, carefully freeing my cock from the confines of my clothes. Bending forward, his lips and tongue trail slowly along my erection as his hand caresses the flesh of my ass. 

I inhale sharply. It's unseemly for a man my age to have to worry about coming too soon, but that's reality when I take Alex to bed. 

I lift my hips and he wiggles my jeans past my ass and slowly tugs them down my legs, leaving a trail of random kisses along my thighs. 

So sweet. For some reason my brain flashes to his boyfriend, and I am positive this moment with Alex bears no resemblance to whatever he had with Nick. I feel a surge of possessiveness, as if this Alex is only mine. 

He piles the clothes on a chair and retrieves a condom and lube, dropping them on the bed. He stares at me, his breathing a little uneven. 

I could stop being such a domineering bastard, giving him orders in his own home, but I'm enjoying myself. I sense that he is, too. Alex isn't meek. He'd object if he was feeling put upon. 

Gesturing to the foot of the bed, I say, "Sit across from me." 

A spark of curiosity flares in his eyes, but he complies, gracefully settling his body in front of me. 

"Touch your chest, your nipples... like you did at the motel." 

Fluidly, he rolls onto his knees, sitting back on his heels. Eyes locked on mine, his hands start at his hips and glide up his body. Sliding first across his taut abdomen then up over his pecs. He kneads the flesh for a moment, then trails his fingertips around his nipples. 

He has pretty hands. They're small for his size, but very elegant. 

Rolling the nubs between thumb and forefinger, he begins to apply pressure. Pinching and twisting slightly as his low moan vibrates in the air. 

My hard-on rises urgently toward his body, as if pointing out what it wants. Like I need remedial directions. There may not be much oxygen getting to my brain, but every functioning cell is focused on Alex. 

He pinches harder and pulls at his nipples, a grunt escaping his throat. 

No, no, no. It's not the same as when I do it. 

Abruptly, I sit up and scoot closer. Gently grabbing his wrists, I pull them away from his chest and press them firmly to the bed next to his legs. Then I reach for his nipples. 

Alex likes it hard, but I start slowly. His chest immediately rises toward me... his body an offering. His face is entirely different from when he pinched his own nipples; now it speaks poignantly of surrender. He's giving himself to me, for whatever use I wish to make of him. Nothing could turn me on more. 

His body and face are handsome, but I don't believe I've ever seen anything as beautiful as the pained capitulation in his eyes. It's not easy for him to give what he's giving me. I'm moved by it in a way that has nothing to do with sex. I feel a rush of fear. This boy means way too much to me. 

Fuck... not going to deal with it now. 

I tweak his tender nubs harder. 

He exhales harshly, stops breathing for a moment and then gasps for air. His knees press open. Bracing his arms behind him, he arches his chest up against my hands. 

Alex's eyes are still locked on mine as I apply a little more pressure. He moans breathlessly and his eyes slide shut. His head rolls back and to the side, exposing his vulnerable throat. Relaxing into the arched position, he yields completely. 

Lightheaded from intense lust, I growl my pleasure. 

Releasing his nipples, I wrap a hand around the back of his neck, lean over his body, and tug his face to mine. I begin at his cheek, kissing a sloppy path to his lips. My cock aches with envy as my demanding tongue enters his mouth. 

He whimpers softly. 

And suddenly all this delicious foreplay seems like an obstacle to what we really need. I break away, gasping, and mutter, "I need to fuck you. Get on your back." I want to watch his face while I fuck him. 

Alex straightens up and leans against me, breathing rapidly. After a moment, he shifts onto hands and knees, moving around me to crawl up the bed. He rubs against me as he passes... shoulder, ribs, hip, leg... like an oversized tabby cat. 

Stretching out on his back, he briefly arches and flexes his lean body before relaxing into the mattress. 

I'm over him in an instant, pausing for a moment, before I allow my body weight to press slowly onto his. 

His arms wind around my back, pulling down... wanting the pressure of my weight. He groans and moves his hips, rubbing our cocks together. 

"Alllllexxx," I whisper into his ear, so turned on the friction between us is going to make me come if I don't back off. 

One of my knees nudges between his thighs, pushing one leg to the side. Then I repeat the motion, so I'm kneeling between his spread legs. Shifting down his body, I position myself with my mouth at his cock. I swipe the head with my tongue. 

Alex gasps, and a shudder racks his body. I feel his position shift and glance up. He's braced up on his elbows, looking at me intently. 

I hadn't intended on giving him a blowjob, but it's tempting. As I lick along the shaft of his cock, his thighs quiver. There's a sharp intake of breath, and his head drops back against the pillows. It's so satisfying to destroy a man with a simple flick of a tongue. 

Sucking the tip of his cock into my mouth, I swirl my tongue around it, enjoying his bland taste. Then I release it and lap at the vein along the underside. 

His legs move restlessly, and he suddenly gasps out, "Walt... god, no teasing... please." His expression is a cross between dazed and frustrated. "Please... fuck me." 

After one last lick, I smile up at him, eager to do just that. Tearing open a condom, I pass it to him. He leans forward and unrolls it onto my erection, rubbing my cock as he goes, which massively threatens my tenuous self-control. 

"Don't do that," I hiss. 

He laughs breathlessly, but efficiently finishes with the condom. His abdominal muscles tighten as he levers himself up a little more and captures my mouth, caressing my lips with his tongue. 

I groan and my fingers grope for the lube. Holding the bottle in one hand, I push gently on Alex's shoulder with the other. As he lies back, I stroke his inner thigh. His restless movements cease and he watches me with a heavy-lidded stare. I lift one of his legs and there's a very subtle tensing in his body. His expression reveals something like distress. In the time it takes to blink, his face goes completely blank. Unnaturally blank. 

In a split second, a look passes between us. We've never fucked face-to-face. My eyes are asking the question, but I don't expect an answer. I respond on instinct. "Turn over, Alex." 

His tension seems to increase at first, but he pulls his legs up and rises onto his knees. Slowly, he flattens his body on the mattress, allowing his legs to spread out on either side of me. The unexplained tension seems to drain as he settles on his stomach. He reaches up and grabs two slats on the headboard as he lifts his ass. 

I run my fingers down his spine, reassuring myself that he's okay. When I begin to massage his ass, he squirms encouragingly. The pretty sight of his wriggling butt gets me hot all over again. 

Popping the cap on the lube, I anoint my fingers, quickly rubbing it warm. Pressing two lubed fingers into his crack, I stroke his anus. He gasps and pushes his ass at me. 

I slip one finger inside, rubbing carefully before inserting the second. Alex fucks himself on my digits, obviously rubbing his hard-on against the sheets. I find it amusing, but my sense of humor is limited by the fact that my own cock demands contact. 

My fingertips find his prostate and fondle it briefly before I withdraw. A quick dollop of lube on my cock, and I'm sliding into position. Groaning, he pushes upward, trying to encourage my cock into his body. He gives a growl of frustration, the muscles in his back rippling as he arches to meet me. He looks back over one shoulder. "Walter, please," his voice sounds raw, "fuck me." 

Bracing myself on my hands, I push hard from the hips, driving my cock into him. A sobbing moan is ripped from his throat. 

Once I'm sheathed in the tight furnace of his ass, it's painfully obvious that this is going to be a short fuck. So I put some power behind my thrusts and slam into him. His low, guttural grunts accompany every hard push into his body. Muscles straining, his ass meets every thrust. 

Reaching under his hips, I wrap my fingers around his cock. Satiny smooth skin covering a rock hard organ... it makes my head spin. I pump into him at a faster pace and his body seizes with the explosion of his own orgasm. His ass contracts around my cock, and I cry out as my own climax overtakes me. 

The sounds of gasping breaths fill the room as I collapse on top of him. Our bodies are still twitching together as we both struggle for oxygen. I feel the pounding of his heart and my own. 

Alex's body gradually relaxes under mine, but he keeps his legs splayed and his ass tilted up, allowing my cock to remain in his body. I brace myself to move off him, but he moans, "No... not yet." Then he moans again and buries his face in the pillow. 

If he's not bothered by 220 pounds of lethargic post-orgasmic Walter, then I see no reason to move. My hands find his shoulders, and I nuzzle the side of his face. 

This thing between us is bigger than I care to admit. Sex is one thing, but I don't understand my feelings. Alex is so passionate and, around him, I seem to be passionate, too. But what does it mean? Are we having a relationship? Fuck. I'm in over my head. 

But it feels so good just being close to him like this. His body held down by the weight of mine. My diminishing cock still inside him. Is it possible to feel so contented and afraid at the same time? 

Afraid of what? Alex? Sharon? My life falling apart and going somewhere I hadn't planned? I'm acting on instinct with Alex... and that shatters my sense of control. I don't know where we're heading, but we're going there hard and fast. 

* * *

I seem to be incapable of coherent thought. My muscles are lax--except for those needed to keep my hips in a position to accommodate Walter's cock. I feel completely satiated. The only fully formed thought to make an appearance since Walter plunged his cock into me, was not wanting him to move after he came. My sole focus is the feel of his hands on my shoulders, lips on my face, and softening cock in my ass. 

As long as his weight is pinning me to the bed, I have a reprieve. I can just be in this moment. I don't have to deal with how out of control this situation has become. I don't have to deal with the fear I felt when I realized he planned to fuck me face to face. And the reason behind the fear is not what I might have suspected. 

I could see his desire plainly etched on his face and I remembered the day he jerked me off in front of the mirror. Normally a master at controlling my expressions, I realized then that, when he touches me, I drop my defenses and let him see me. I knew for certain I didn't want him to see how I feel when he penetrates me... when his body is connected to mine... strange feelings I cannot name--do not want to name. Strange feelings I tell myself do not exist. At least until the next time he puts his hands on me. 

I react to Walter... I don't plan. And those reactions are dangerous. This can only end badly so I should just end it now. But I've never given a fuck about should. 

So, I want him to stay. In a way he could not possibly understand, I'm asking him to make me stay. With his weight on my body. All I have to do is breathe and try to get my scattered thoughts and bizarre feelings back under control. 

His lips nibble my ear idly. "Let me know when you want to breathe again, Alex." 

"Mmm..." Of necessity, I have to keep my breathing shallow but I'm getting enough air, and this just feels too good. 

I let my mind blank, enjoying the feel of his body on mine. Eventually, my ass and thigh muscles begin to protest but I try to ignore it. When the muscles start to tremble, I feel Walter's weight shift as he moves to roll off. I groan, not really appreciating the gesture. A shudder passes through my body at the feel of his cock slipping out of me. 

Walter settles next to me, his arm around my waist. I take a deep breath, trying to replenish my oxygen, but am still so sex-dazed I can't manage to pry my eyes open. I feel his lips graze my cheek, then he murmurs near my ear, "Hungry?" 

I finally open my eyes. "Mmm... very." I grabbed breakfast on the way home from the office and ate a granola bar before my ride, but that was many hours of activity ago. 

Walter rolls over and stands next to the bed. I pull my limbs into some semblance of a normal position and watch him slip on his jeans. Seeing him shirtless in jeans reminds me of the fuck in his garage... how overwhelmed I was seeing him half-dressed for the first time. I find a half smile creeping onto my face as he looks at me expectantly. Yeah, I need to get up. 

I scoot over to the side of the bed and stand next to him. Waves of dizziness drive me to my knees. Okay, maybe I wasn't getting enough air. Or I should have eaten earlier. 

Suddenly, he's on the floor next to me, a hand supporting my lower back. "You okay?" His tone is gentle; he knows I'm not seriously ill. 

I blink at him dumbly for a few moments, trying to clear the black spots from my vision. 

He rises. "Stay there. I'll get you something." 

"No, wait. I just need something to eat." I push myself up and feel his arm around me, helping me to stand. 

Stepping away from him, I rub a hand over my face, trying to get my brain and body working in the same direction. I lead the way out of the bedroom, heading straight for the refrigerator. 

Walter follows, and keeps a protective eye on me as I open the fridge. 

Grabbing the orange juice, I lean against the wall and down the entire bottle. I still feel a bit lightheaded, but the unimpeded flow of oxygen and the sugar slowly seeping into my bloodstream are rapidly bringing me back to normal. 

A little dizziness is a trivial price for the experience of Walter touching me. I feel my features twist into a scowl... I hardly recognize myself these days. I push away from the wall and shake off the troublesome thoughts. 

A warm hand falls on my shoulder. "Sit down, Alex. I'll get dinner." 

I let my hand glide across his abdomen as I move out of the kitchen. "I'm going to get my jeans... be right back." 

Instinctively, I grab the jeans reserved for lounging around the house. They're cut low on the hips and are a bit loose, but they're old and worn and incredibly comfortable. There are various rips in the thighs and one across the lower right butt cheek. I realize they scream 'rent-boy' and I'm fine with that. I would much rather deal with the sexual overtones than this increasing intimacy. 

I return to the dining room. His eyes track me warily, but he seems relaxed, sitting in what has already become his chair. 

The table is set with antipasto and a platter of sandwiches. He's found plates, napkins and silverware, as well as two bottles of tea and two glasses I don't recognize. 

"Where did you go on the bike ride?" His voice carries a soothing tone. 

I pile food on my plate, resisting the urge to frown at the sandwiches. "There's a big park about 45 minutes from here. My intention was just to ride there and back, but I sort of blanked out and kept going. Found myself in a warehouse district another 45 minutes later." I grin at him. "Had to haul ass to get here before you." 

I take a few bites of a sandwich and abandon the bread, picking the meat and cheese out of the middle. "Do you ride, Walter? Or do you prefer just to work out at the gym?" I pop a bite of meat into my mouth and reach for my tea. 

"I have a bicycle, but it's in the corner of the garage, covered with dust. The tires are probably flat." He takes a bite of raw carrot and, after chewing, continues, "I don't like to bike on the roads after dark. Sometimes I run, but the gym is my mainstay. Plus I usually box once a week." 

"Hmm... You don't like to bike after dark? I think that says something about your work habits, Walter. You should try leaving the office when it's light out." I grab some more meat and cheese off the tray... carefully avoiding the vegetables. 

His eyes open wide, in mock offense. "My work habits? At least I did leave the office last night." 

I gape at him. "How did you know about that?" 

"Baker told me." He watches my face carefully. "Alex, I'm not monitoring you. Baker's just thorough and he's pleased with your work." 

"I wasn't implying... umm, I'm just surprised he mentioned something like that." For some reasons it feels... weird. Thinking of Section Chief Baker talking to Walter about me. 

Walter shrugs. "You get noticed. Don't worry about it. It should be good for your career." 

"Ah, yes. Well, that's certainly not foremost in my mind right now." I rake my eyes over his chest and grin. "Now, back to those physical activities... boxing? I'll have to remember that... no fighting with Walter. But that's okay. I prefer wrestling anyway." 

He grins at me salaciously. "You've certainly got the moves and the physique for it." 

I leer back at him. "Any time you'd like a demonstration." The mysterious drinking glasses catch my eye. I lift one and ask, "Where did these come from?" 

"Under your sink," he smirks, shaking his head at my folly. "The alien in your kitchen told me where to look." 

"Ah, fuck. It figures the stupid creature would-" The phone ringing actually startles me. I stare at it blankly, then slowly rise to retrieve it from the kitchen counter. Unless there's been another killing, there's only one person who would call me at home. Well, it's possible Nick could call, but that seems very unlikely. 

I prop my hip against the counter and answer, "Yeah." 

"I have something for you to do." Great. He exhales, and I can easily visualize the cloud of smoke. 

"And that would be?" This is awkward. I focus on keeping my tone neutral. Skinner in my house and the Smoker on the phone. My life is too perfect. 

"A little extracurricular assignment this weekend. Sunday morning to be precise." 

Skinner picks up a magazine from my table and starts reading, in what has to be a deliberate effort to give me a little privacy. Shy of moving to my bedroom, there's no way to get out of hearing range and this needs to sound like a casual phone conversation. 

I reach for a pen and paper. "Specifics?" My tone is friendly and inquisitive. 

He pauses. "Did I interrupt something, Alex?" There's a hint of malicious humor in his tone. 

"Yeah. I'm having dinner." Acting abilities such as they are, I know I sound pleasant and friendly. 

"I take it you're not alone?" 

"No." 

"Ah, Alex. Another one of your pretty boys?" 

I let my silence answer while I contemplate which languages Skinner might speak or read. I could kick myself because I had a perfect opportunity to ask the first time he came over. 

There's an annoyed sigh when he realizes I am not going to answer. "I know we've discussed this before but, you are keeping your, shall we say... proclivities away from the Bureau?" 

Oh, if only you knew. "Naturally. Now, what are the details?" I sound just shy of lighthearted... wouldn't want to overdo it. My brain is rapidly spinning my cover story, should Skinner ask about the call. 

"So impatient, Alex." 

"Well, dinner is getting cold," I say on a slight laugh. 

He gives a snort of laughter and rattles off an address, a name and various other details. I jot down my notes in Latin--seems an unlikely language for Skinner to know. 

"Okay. That it?" 

"Yes. And Alex?" 

"Yes?" 

"Your cover is the most important thing. Don't let anything jeopardize it." 

Oh, like killing people? Something like that, maybe? This is just code for 'don't get caught.' "Of course not." 

There's a click and the line is dead. Before I put the phone down, I quickly try to remember where I was in conversation with Skinner. I need to appear relaxed and be able to easily pick up where we left off. 

I casually toss the notepad and pen in a drawer. I'm confident that, in the very remote chance Skinner should open the drawer and be able to read Latin, my notes are vague enough to be unremarkable. 

I return to the table. "Sorry about the interruption." I take another bite and look at Walter. "So, where were we? Oh, yeah. I think it's very unfair for my alien to communicate with you. I didn't even know I had glasses." That's certainly the truth. 

Walter's hand moves over mine, stroking it lightly with his thumb. His expression is tranquil. He looks well fed and sexually satisfied. Looking at him, half dressed in my home, I have the overwhelming urge to touch him. Our last couple of encounters have left little opportunity to explore his body. 

I finish my meal one handed, to maintain the contact, while he watches me eat. I contemplate what to do next... trying to come up with something that will not make the situation any more uncomfortable, but will still allow me to do what I want to him. 

When the meal is finished, he stores the leftovers while I put the dishes in the sink. 

I come up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "You staying?" 

There's a hesitation but he nods. "If you still want me to." 

"Definitely," I whisper into his ear. "Do you have an overnight bag or something?" 

"Yeah. It's in the car." 

"Okay." He seems to take the hint and moves to the bedroom to pull on his clothes. I quickly wash the dishes and emerge from the kitchen as he enters with a garment bag, which I hang in the closet. 

Returning to him, I start pulling off his shirt, followed by his jeans. He looks a little surprised but I ignore it and keep undressing him. Once I have him naked, I pull him toward the bathroom. 

"What are we doing, Alex?" His chocolate brown eyes are smiling. 

"Showering. I'm a little raunchier than I can stand." 

I lean into the tub, adjusting the water temperature, trying to gauge what a normal shower temperature is. I step in and he follows. The aggrieved expression on his face tells me I didn't quite get the temperature right. I turn the hot down a little more. "Better?" 

"Yeah. Alex-" 

I cut him off with my mouth. My mind becomes pleasantly fuzzy as our tongues tangle and he begins to press past my lips. Gasping, I break the kiss and step under the shower spray. I let the water run down my face, quickly wash my hair, then grab for the soap. 

Walter reaches for me, one hand caressing my chest and the other a thigh. 

Wanting to get the bathing thing done quickly, I don't try to deflect Walter's hands, but don't encourage him or participate, despite my skin sizzling everywhere he touches. I step under the water to rinse and suddenly feel frantic... frantic to get what I want. 

Walter looks perplexed by the rapid shower but I don't bother trying to explain, I just go after him. Feeling more comfortable with assertiveness than anything else that's happened today, I press his back against the wall and start with his ear. I trace the contours with my tongue and suck his earlobe into my mouth. Moving down his neck, I lick and nip a path to his collarbone and then his chest. 

"Alex..." He cuts himself off and gasps as my lips close over one of his nipples. I suck it firmly into my mouth, rolling my tongue over it. It feels so good to touch him, I'm almost light headed. Turning my attention to the other nipple, I give it the same treatment. 

His breathing is heavy and his hands have gone idle. He seems to understand and accept that this is my show. 

Unable to reach anything else while standing, I drop to my knees and begin exploring his stomach with my lips. I dip my tongue into his navel, enjoying the salty taste of his skin... glad I decided not to wash him first. The assertiveness suddenly morphs into a desire to make him feel incredible pleasure. To brand this encounter on his memory. 

I explore the scars on his stomach, tracing them with my tongue and sucking a round shaped one into my mouth, before moving on to the juncture where hip meets thigh. 

His hand finds the side of my neck, fingers gently brushing the sensitive skin. 

He's already half hard. I run my tongue along the shaft, moving to pull his balls, one at a time, into my mouth. 

His deep groan reverberates in the shower. 

I want to suck him off, but not until I can have the feeling of his fully erect cock sliding across my tongue and invading my throat. 

Caressing his balls with my lips, I reach between his legs, nudging them apart, so I can massage the sensitive spot behind his scrotum. My mouth wanders to the inside of his thigh, sucking hard enough to leave a purple mark, then I trail my tongue down to his knee. I move my mouth to the other knee and repeat the caress in reverse. 

I slide both hands up his torso, delighting in the contours of his muscles and the texture of his chest hair under my palms. After pinching his nipples lightly, I stroke his ribs, then reach around to grab the flesh of his ass. I knead the firm muscles, feeling increasingly impatient to have his cock in my mouth. 

My fingers slide between the cheeks of his ass while I continue to tongue his balls. I begin a subtle massaging motion with my fingertips along the inside of his ass cheeks and then around his anus. 

"Fuck, that feels good," he murmurs. 

He's erect now and my patience evaporates. I let my brain defocus and my throat relax, then suck him down. 

Walter rewards me with a guttural growl almost too low to be audible. 

It's like getting high... the throbbing against my tongue, the slightly salty taste, the hard presence penetrating my throat. I'm still surprised by how much I enjoy this. Surprised by how hard I get with his cock in my mouth. The endorphins pump into my system. 

I move my mouth on his shaft, allowing my tongue to lave the head before quickly taking him back down my throat. I groan with pleasure and feel him shudder as the vibrations move through his cock. 

I suck him with a firm, purposeful rhythm designed to quickly bring him to orgasm. When I feel his balls begin to pull up and tighten, I release his cock and back off. 

He blinks down at me, looking dazed. I like that. I want to keep having that effect on him. 

I pull at his hip, trying to get him to turn around. The time it takes him to rotate feels like an eternity. I growl low in my throat and part his ass cheeks with my hands. 

My brain function flatlines from pleasure as I tongue the tight ring of his anus. The firm muscles of his butt quivering under my hands set up a complementary reaction in my body. I find myself trembling as I thrust my tongue into his ass. 

Hands pressed against the wall of my shower, his moans are interrupted with sputtering attempts to breathe. 

Repeatedly spearing the sensitive flesh with my tongue, I become aware of my own state of arousal. My cock is painfully hard... I need to come. Soon. 

I thrust into him one last time, then suck and lick at the sensitive flesh. I can't wait anymore. 

Pulling back, I tug at his body and he turns around. Before he's fully leaning against the wall, I take him back into my mouth, nearly bruising my throat in my haste. My hands shake as I brace against his hips. I suck him hard, pulling my mouth on and off his erection with nearly punishing force. 

His hand finds the back of my neck and his hips begin to thrust. An objection rises as he takes control. But as he holds my head and fucks my face, it blurs into satisfaction... and rightness... and need. I reach for my own erection. 

I only have to stroke myself twice before I feel the explosion of orgasm. My yell is muffled by the pulsing cock in my mouth, and I'm only dimly aware of his cum spilling down my throat. I swallow instinctively and feel reality completely give way as I release him and slump to the floor of the shower. 

* * *

Damn. Amazing that I got it up again that quickly. Alex is the perfect antidote to aging. 

My enthusiastic lover is now a lump on the floor of the shower. He stays up all night, nearly passes out from not eating, and then sucks me into oblivion while jacking himself off. 

My legs feel heavy and sluggish. I grab the soap and give myself a quick rinsing off. Then I shift the water spray to the side and squat to see if I can revive Alex. I squeeze his shoulder. "You alive?" 

"Mmm... no." Alex awkwardly sprawls out on the bathtub floor, languidly stretching and working out the kinks. He looks at me from beneath his lashes, flashing me a weary, satiated grin. "Thanks, Walter." His voice is low and rough. "I've been thinking about that since Sunday." 

I smile down at him. "It's a lot better without the Attorney General." Extending a hand, I suggest, "Let's go to bed, Alex." 

Once standing, he seems capable of movement, so I step out and allow him to wash up again. I hear him turn a knob and then groan. A few seconds later, steam is billowing over the shower doors. I guess he likes his showers on the hot side. 

Five minutes later we're changing the sheets on his bed. I feel an odd sort of nervousness, and I realize I'm feeling shy... something I haven't felt in over fifteen years. My ears flush as I realize what it is; I'm hoping he likes me. Fuck. I chuckle at myself as I straighten the bedcovers. 

Green eyes flash at me suspiciously. "What?" 

Sorry, Alex. We're not going there. Way beyond my ability to cope. 

Making my face go serious, I approach nonchalantly and trip him so he falls on the bed. I follow him down, landing halfway on top. We wrestle a little and he lets me pin him, so I pretend to take a kiss by force. 

He goes with the pretense for a moment, then moans and opens his mouth for my tongue's exploration. I break the kiss and pull him to my chest, stroking the side of his face. 

The uncomfortable feelings I have for him don't seem to be going away. I guess I'll have to live with it. 

"Night, Alex." 

He doesn't reply but tilts his head, and I briefly feel the press of his lips against my chest. 

I try not to worry and allow myself to drift off to sleep. 

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Zoe Takashi and Louise Wu 


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